Challenge 5: Love/Hate - Holiday Gifts
Title: Holiday Gifts
Characters: Japan, China; China/Japan? Japan/China?
Challenge: February: Love/Hate
Bonus Words: I guess none? Darnit, I always forget about these.
Rating: PG for rude behavior.
Summary: By the time one of them finishes celebrating one holiday, the other is already celebrating another.
It would take barely any time at all for either of them to visit each other. Korea proves that every day, when he visits both, and is just as passive-aggressively affectionate to one as to the other.
They don't, though. China because he hates the dishonest propriety he is greeted with when he's there, is bothered by the incredible falsity of Japan's accommodating smiles; Japan because he would rather marinate in his own loneliness than suffer China's overbearing and inappropriate personality.
Instead, China makes a call to Japan's house with an old desk phone, choosing to memorize each of Japan's new phone numbers rather than having Japan's name in his phonebook. Japan answers his cell phone from "Unknown Number" as though he didn't know who was calling, as though the rogue numbers on the display were foreign to him.
"moshi moshi, nihon degozaimasu."
"wei, riben? shi zhongguo-dage. You eaten yet?"
"No cause for concern, you find me in great health."
In his worn-down study, China shifts idly through government papers and assorted civilian letters and tosses a handful in the bin in a pretense of productivity. "Okay, now we got the chitchat out of the way, I want to converse with you about those cards you sent me for New Years."
Japan flicks his fruit knife over a small bowl as he dismantles a fresh orange in his living room. "I hope you found my well-wishes to your liking," he says. He doesn't smile, because smiles don't carry through phones. He peels a slice of orange and eats it.
"Sure, and may every year grant you more fish," China says; Japan is unsure if the double meaning didn't carry into their Common speech or if China honestly only wished him fish. "What was strange was that the box you sent me didn't have any holiday snacks in them."
"Is that true? Apologies for the inconvenience."
"Whatever, no big deal, but. . . why trouble yourself to send me chocolates instead of mochi?"
Japan leans over and turns his cell phone off speaker mode, puts down his fruit knife and orange, and purses his lips quietly. Then he puts the speaker mode back on. "Pardon my brusque language, but perhaps I merely wished to make your own ignorance of Western culture clear to you."
China hastily returns a rose-shaped chocolate to its exquisite box. "Are you referencing Valentine's Day? I do know about that." He puts his feet up on his chair and rocks on it a little, telling himself that he does not feel disappointed by this despicable answer.
"Do you? Pardon my presumptions. Well then consider it my best wishes for your future of this year," Japan says icily. His fingers curl around the orange and he tears the remaining pieces apart, discarding their skins.
China takes a government document in his hand and crumples it into a ball. "I don't need you making criticisms of my personal life, you of all people Japan!" He throws the crumpled ball across the room, feeling his liver flare up and not caring.
Japan looks at his hands; they're covered in pulp and juice. He wipes one hand clean on his yukata and pushes "End Call" on his phone.
China hears the dial tone on his phone and slams it quite heavily back on its holder. He grabs the high-quality foil from the lining of the chocolate box and sweeps the box lid off his desk. He grabs the box of chocolates and holds it over his bin, muscles tensed to tip the box over.
He holds it there for several minutes, tensing, panting. Then he curses his weakness and takes the box into his bedroom.
Characters: Japan, China; China/Japan? Japan/China?
Challenge: February: Love/Hate
Bonus Words: I guess none? Darnit, I always forget about these.
Rating: PG for rude behavior.
Summary: By the time one of them finishes celebrating one holiday, the other is already celebrating another.
It would take barely any time at all for either of them to visit each other. Korea proves that every day, when he visits both, and is just as passive-aggressively affectionate to one as to the other.
They don't, though. China because he hates the dishonest propriety he is greeted with when he's there, is bothered by the incredible falsity of Japan's accommodating smiles; Japan because he would rather marinate in his own loneliness than suffer China's overbearing and inappropriate personality.
Instead, China makes a call to Japan's house with an old desk phone, choosing to memorize each of Japan's new phone numbers rather than having Japan's name in his phonebook. Japan answers his cell phone from "Unknown Number" as though he didn't know who was calling, as though the rogue numbers on the display were foreign to him.
"moshi moshi, nihon degozaimasu."
"wei, riben? shi zhongguo-dage. You eaten yet?"
"No cause for concern, you find me in great health."
In his worn-down study, China shifts idly through government papers and assorted civilian letters and tosses a handful in the bin in a pretense of productivity. "Okay, now we got the chitchat out of the way, I want to converse with you about those cards you sent me for New Years."
Japan flicks his fruit knife over a small bowl as he dismantles a fresh orange in his living room. "I hope you found my well-wishes to your liking," he says. He doesn't smile, because smiles don't carry through phones. He peels a slice of orange and eats it.
"Sure, and may every year grant you more fish," China says; Japan is unsure if the double meaning didn't carry into their Common speech or if China honestly only wished him fish. "What was strange was that the box you sent me didn't have any holiday snacks in them."
"Is that true? Apologies for the inconvenience."
"Whatever, no big deal, but. . . why trouble yourself to send me chocolates instead of mochi?"
Japan leans over and turns his cell phone off speaker mode, puts down his fruit knife and orange, and purses his lips quietly. Then he puts the speaker mode back on. "Pardon my brusque language, but perhaps I merely wished to make your own ignorance of Western culture clear to you."
China hastily returns a rose-shaped chocolate to its exquisite box. "Are you referencing Valentine's Day? I do know about that." He puts his feet up on his chair and rocks on it a little, telling himself that he does not feel disappointed by this despicable answer.
"Do you? Pardon my presumptions. Well then consider it my best wishes for your future of this year," Japan says icily. His fingers curl around the orange and he tears the remaining pieces apart, discarding their skins.
China takes a government document in his hand and crumples it into a ball. "I don't need you making criticisms of my personal life, you of all people Japan!" He throws the crumpled ball across the room, feeling his liver flare up and not caring.
Japan looks at his hands; they're covered in pulp and juice. He wipes one hand clean on his yukata and pushes "End Call" on his phone.
China hears the dial tone on his phone and slams it quite heavily back on its holder. He grabs the high-quality foil from the lining of the chocolate box and sweeps the box lid off his desk. He grabs the box of chocolates and holds it over his bin, muscles tensed to tip the box over.
He holds it there for several minutes, tensing, panting. Then he curses his weakness and takes the box into his bedroom.