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“Huh. What do you think of that, the new Starbucks Sakura Frappucino. Just strawberry and matcha, though, no actual cherries in it. Think it’ll be any good?“
Taiwan sighs. “You’re such a stereotypical teenager, I swear. Besides, why are you talking about Starbucks of all places when I finally dragged you to get bubble tea with me? It’s sacrilegious.”
“Well, I am a teenager, and so are you.” Says Hong Kong. “Teacher doesn’t think I’ve grown up anyway, and then he spends all his time complaining to me about ‘youth culture’ and all that stuff. He whines, I snapchat it, it’s a cycle. Good times.“
“Like Teacher sees anyone besides himself as truly ‘grown up.” Taiwan sips at the dregs of her bubble tea, trying to catch the stray pearls caught between the ice. “I love the guy, but he really does need to know when to tone down the intensity, you know?.”
“Heh. You got that right. Sometimes I have to wonder how it works out for him though, now that he’s seeing Alfred.“
It’s strange how easy it is to refer to America on a first-name basis, probably because of all the world meetings and events America is always out there, smiling, shaking hands vigorously, insisting to both humans and nations alike, No no no, not Mr. Jones, please just call me Alfred! Yes sir, it’s perfectly fine, sir it’s very good to meet you, the name’s Alfred–
He was always so casual with his name, in a way that China never really was. For Hong Kong and (what should he call them? His siblings? Cousins? Their relationship had always been strange…) the other fellow territories, China was always Teacher. Even as Hong Kong got older and began to assert his individuality a bit more, it was hard to break the habit.
Taiwan scowls and crunches on some ice. “Well they do make such a cute couple. When they aren’t like, awkwardly standing next to each other during boss meetings of course, but you know what I mean. Although politically, this just means that Mr. United States is just going to completely ignore the fact that I exist again for the sake of his boyfriend, or sugar daddy, depending on how you want to spin things. Rude. He owes me money too, you know.” She swirls the remaining ice in her mug with the thick purple straw and giggles. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe we’re just sitting here gossiping about Teacher’s personal life, how old are we, like twelve? Not that i care, that much.”
“It’s not gossip if its in the news.” Hong Kong says as he snaps a photo of Taiwan at the table before she can protest and captions it #economicgossip. A bit clunky, but enough to make Taiwan laugh.
“Stop that!” she says, trying to sound angry but laughing the whole time. “Why are you suddenly so interested in chatting up the current events! Usually you just sit back and fail to look cool while you text me across the table.“
“Now you’re just not being fair, to me” said Hong Kong. “If you must know, I am a very politically active citizen who also happens to know how to chill.”
Now it’s Taiwan’s turn to roll her eyes. “I’m not trying to belittle you, Mr. Chill Guy. I just kind of want to know what’s up. Is that too much?“
“No, it’s not.” Hong Kong stops leaning back in his seat and suddenly sits up straight, his hands folded on the table. Taiwan looks startled at his almost-comically sudden shift.
“Something wrong?” she asks.
“No, not really.” he’s still sitting upright, but he takes out his iPhone and starts de-tangling his earbuds. “I was just asking because, well,” he tugged at a particularly loopy knot, trying to loosen it– “America called me earlier. I didn’t really expect him to remember that I exist, but apparently he does.” The knot gave way, and Hong Kong absentmindedly starts wrapping it around his phone again. “The thing he does keep forgetting, however, is the whole concept of multiple time zones. Not that it mattered, since I was up late anyway.”
“Huh, weird. Sounds like him though. What did he call you for?“
“Why do you think?” Hong Kong shakes his head and shrugs. “Guess their relationship isn’t all gold and roses.”
—
Hong Kong thinks back to the call, which had split the silence of the dark hours of the early morning, while he was messing around with his computer, propped up by the sheer force of will and caffeine.
When he picks up, America’s familiar voice sounds oddly uneasy, not full of the usual exuberance he and many other people had come to expect from him.
“Alright, what happened.” asks Hong Kong. “Let me guess…This is about China, isn’t it?“
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” America says. "I mean, I don’t understand? He says he’s okay, but–he gets so closed off sometimes. I don’t know how to talk to him or help him out of it”
“He does that sometimes,” Hong Kong wants to say, explain to America that China just retreats occasionally, and there’s nothing you can do to wrestle him out of it until he’s ready to do so–after all, Hong Kong had spent so much of his own childhood trying to help his Teacher throughout those times, dragging him to the rehab centers on the island, desperately trying to find out what was wrong, since even at that age he could sense that whatever was hurting Teacher was much more than just the adverse effects of opium.
“Yeah, duh, I just figured out that much. So are you gonna tell me what I can do about it or not?” America snaps, and then just as quickly attempts to backtrack. “Look, I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just a bit freaked out, okay? Yao and I haven’t really… hung out like this before. Casually, I mean.“
Hong Kong sighs and cracks open another can of Red Bull. “First of all, this isn’t, like, something you can just fix in one go and be done with, okay? And it’s not your fault, well, mostly not, not this time. Just–“ he pauses, trying to think of what he can say, that won’t sound like an awful cliché from a cheap self-help book. Healthy relationships rely on mutual communication and support to thrive! As if he’s any authority to begin dishing out advice on that matter. He shrugs, even though America can’t see him. “Just whatever you do, don’t bother him. Give him some space if he needs it, but don’t be a stranger.”
“Okay.” America is silent on the line for a few moments. “Thanks. I’m sorry for calling you at some crazy hour, if you’re at your house I mean. Yao’s not really talking and it got uncomfortable so I’m just waiting outside.“
“Outside?” Hong Kong had assumed that they were in DC, but it occurs to him that he actually doesn’t know. “Where are you guys anyway?”
America coughs and stutters for a bit before answering. “Oh. Well, uh. I’m not exactly sure. Some cruddy Super-8 in Nevada, We…went on a road trip, you see. I thought it would be a good way for us to get some time alone away from the feds. And now he’s…like this.” Hong Kong imagines him wringing his hand out in a dramatic gesture of frustration to no one in particular, and he’s not that far off the mark.
“Maybe when he’s better you can let me talk to him,” he says. “Later, I mean, when he’s feeling better. That might help clear things up.”
“Okay.” He hears America sigh deeply from the other end of the line. “He’s so…There’s so much to him, you know? That I don’t know about. Not only ‘cause he’s like, so much older, I mean that’s part of it, but…other things. I love him and all, but it’s kinda hard to figure this stuff out.“
“Do you really mean that?” Hong Kong asks, a little more harshly than intended.
“Huh?”
“You know what you said.” Maybe he’s putting too much weight on the phrase, since the glib, casual way that America throws around the word love is probably just a cruel consequence of the English language, similar to how England spoke sometimes. That’ll be alright love, don’t worry about it love. but it’s been a while since Hong Kong has felt like he was the one acting parental towards China instead of the other way around.
“So what,” America sounds irritated. “You think just because our whole relationship is strategic means I can’t care about him as a person?” America has roughly three hundred years on Hong Kong, and despite the defensiveness permeating his words, he still manages to sound so young.
“I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.” Hong Kong remembers again that as far as human ages go, both himself and America are technically both nineteen, and that puts a weird spin on the whole situation, and the fact that America was also raised by England as a child as well doesn’t make it better. He tries not to think too hard about that . “I didn’t mean to come across like that. It’s just that–“ There are too many weird things about your relationship, he wants to say, especially in light of history, but he restrains himself. “Is that really how you feel?“
“Well, I guess so,” says America, the sharpness leaving his voice. “I don’t know! I care about him, like I said, and I really, really want this to work out, outside of financial and political issues, you know? That’s why I thought it’d be good to do something fun together. Hang out, have quality time, that’s what couples do, right?”
“Hmm.” Hong Kong sips at his drink, trying to think of how to continue. He downs the rest of the Red Bull and kicks the can into the recycling with the other ones, massaging his temples.
“Look, it’s late here,” he says. “I don’t know what time of day exactly it is there, but–I’ve gotta catch some sleep. But yeah. Please just…don’t make promises if you know you won’t be able to keep them.“ Just be honest! Communication is key!
“Okay,” says America quietly. “Okay. Yeah. I get that. Thanks.”
“ Just tell him to Skype or text me when he can. Hopefully I’ll be awake by then.”
–
China calls later that morning, long after Hong Kong had woken up and was walking down the street, late on his way to meet Taiwan at the opening of the new boba place down the block.
“‘Sup Laoshi.“
“Hey Hong Kong.” China sounds tired, as expected. “I was going to call you earlier, but America said that you’d only just gone to sleep. What were you doing all night anyway?.”
“Stuff,” says Hong Kong, then before China can grumble about the vague response, quickly moves the subject forward.”So…Rough day yesterday?“
“You could say that. We’re calling the trip off, since I think we just need some space. It’s not really his fault, though, you know how I can get.”
“Yeah, I do.” Hong Kong sits down on an empty bench. “I’m glad you’re doing okay now. Although honestly Teacher, you don’t have to stay with him if you don’t want to, at least not like that.“
“I want this to work.” There’s a strange strain in China’s voice. “I want–I want us to work. We have lot of common interests and goals, and as the two largest economies–”
“Believe it or not you can continue doing your trading or bargaining or lending or whatever without banging each other you know.“
There’s a deep sigh from the other end of the line. “I know what I’m doing! You don’t have to keep picking apart my personal relationships, it’s really none of your business at this point.”
“That’s fun talk coming from someone who’s always been interested in picking apart my personal choices. Even though I’m an adult.“
“We are not having this conversation right now.” China’s voice sounds cold, using the trained, intimidating tone of voice meant for silencing political enemies or for negotiating tough business trades. Hong Kong is not falling for it.
"I’m just trying to look out for you, isn't that okay? Because geez, you know your choices affect more than just you. And maybe I want you to be, I don’t know, happy? If that’s even possible, since sometimes with how much you seem to enjoy being miserable maybe you deserve it or something.”
China is silent on the other end of the line. Hong Kong’s stomach drops, realizing what he’s just said, oh god how could he say that to Teacher, to China, of all people, cursing himself for letting his irritation take him too far.
“…I’m sorry,” he manages to say over the phone. “Teacher, okay? I didn’t mean that.” He waits, breathing into the receiver, hoping for some kind, any kind of response.
The long pause continues for an agonizing amount of time, but finally he hears something that sounds like a deep sigh, followed by a continuation of China’s voice in business-politics-parental-robot mode . “Don’t you ever talk to me like that.”
“I said I’m sorry.” He grits his teeth and braces himself for yet another lecture on filial piety, albeit probably a well-deserved one at the moment, but China doesn’t continue, just mutters a hasty goodbye before hanging up.
–
“Sounds like it brought back some memories.” says Taiwan.
“Heh, you bet.”
“That’s not a bad thing, you know.” she says. “History is what it is, and we all have to deal with it in our own way.“
“I know, Mei, I know. It’s just that–wow. Don’t you ever think about how Teacher is such a mess? I mean I know he’s been through a lot, hell, I was with him for a large chunk of it, but still. The guy’s got so much baggage, it can’t be healthy. I just hope he and America can, you know, actually deal with it. For their sake, and for the sake of the rest of the world.”
“You’re not him, though.” says Taiwan. “You have your own life. Isn’t that what all this independence stuff is about? I don’t think you should worry, least of all about that.” She reaches over and pats his hand gently, one of her many little tics that with anyone else he’d find completely irritating, but, weirdly enough is reassuring when Taiwan does it. “You’re one of a kind, Hong. First print edition one of a kind. I mean, obviously you’re gonna be a lot like Teacher, he raised you and everything, it’s in our culture, we have to come from somewhere after all.“
Hong Kong puts his phone down and leans back in his chair, staring back up at the brightly colored menu screens with their flickering specials. “I mean, sometimes I think it’s because of him, I can’t see myself getting in a relationship, like, ever. Every time I try to consider it, I just can’t help but think about…well, the 1800s was a huge mess in general for the world, but oh boy. So much for a ‘normal childhood,’ like anyone actually needs that.” He stops himself before he can allow his tone to get too bitter.
“I’m sorry, dear god. This is exactly what I didn’t want to do.”
“Guess you needed your chance to vent, too huh? Anyway, make sure you finish your drink before it gets all lukewarm and nasty.” She gets up to throw out her empty cup.
“Thanks,” is all he can say. He knows Taiwan has her own issues too, her own history full of hurts and grievances, the lot that comes with being a Nation, and she certainly doesn’t have to sit here and listen to him gripe about past pains. Heaven knows China does enough of that already.
Taiwan gives him a soft nudge to the shoulder. “That’s what family is for, isn’t it?” He smiles and nods. He’ll give her her own time, in a while, when she feels the need to dredge up her own past, her own stories, and reexamine them the way he has done today.
“Of course.“
“You owe me.”
He makes sure to stop and take some selfies in front of the sign as they leave the tea place.
“This too ‘stereotypical teenager’ enough for you?” he asks Taiwan, who just laughs and rolls her eyes.
“Please,” she laughs. “I’d be the hypocrite if I acted serious about that.”
They take a ridiculous amount of pictures, and Hong Kong sends a large chunk of them to China. Not quite an apology offering–he's already done that–but a piece of the present to counteract the heaviness of the past.
Not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.