A/n: Before reading the fic, I strongly suggest listening to the song that this fic is based on at least once. Youtube the video "Starwish by Cecilia Cheung (Fly Me to Polaris) Translation"

1931
With a happy little smile and twinkle in his eye, Russia licked the bit of rice clinging to his chopsticks. "Yao~Yao~" He held out his empty bowl. "More please~ "

China scowled. "More? You're lucky I even gave you any aru! How many times have I told you to stop breaking into my home and eating all my food? You're a nuisance! Go away aru! Shoo! Never come back here ever again! I mean it!"

Unperturbed by China's outburst, Russia laid an elbow on the table. Since there was no more food, he offhandedly poured himself a cup of tea. He sipped on the lukewarm drink and over the rim of his cup, gave China an appraising glance; slowly, a smile began tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Stingy."

"Stingy?" China choked on the word. His eyes bulged. "Stingy?" He grabbed the small wooden barrel and held it over his head with both hands. "You ate all my rice aru! How does that make me stingy? Tell me!"

Russia pointed a finger, gently poking the angry nation in the chest. "You're stingy because you haven't given me your answer yet."

Instantly China froze. The barrel slipped out of his hands and landed with a clatter to the floor. "W-what are you talking about aru?"

"You know, the question I asked you last week. The one about you and me being together." Russia tilted his head, his silver hair falling over his eyes.

China had the sudden urge to run his fingers through strands of hair that seemed soft like freshly spun silk in the moonlight. He grimaced, holding firmly onto his itching hands to stem the unwelcomed desire. "I-I have no idea what you're referring to."

"Then let me ask you again." Russia leaned in, his hand pressed against the loud beating of lithe man's heart. "Do you want to..." -China held his breath in anticipation- "become one with Russia?" Russia asked in a rush, his words slurring into one. It was as if by some miracle if he asked his trademark question fast enough, the Chinese nation would somehow agree.

China heard every word. He stood, knocking his chair to the ground from his haste. He was angry at Russia for leading him on and at himself for being led. He let the anger fill him. Anger was a much better emotion than fear and it was fear he felt. Fear of his own emotion, of the disappointment he felt when Russia didn't ask the expected question. "I don't have to give you an answer aru! You already know it! The whole world knows it! It's no aru! NO! Now go away and never come back! Don't let me see your pudgy face back here aru!

"You know I'll just keep coming back here until you say yes," Russia said with a touch of arrogance, his eyes dancing with amusement at China's reaction.

China threw up his hands. He had enough of Russia for one night. He turned to leave, throwing some colorful expletives behind him.

"Yao," Without meaning to, China's feet froze at the sound of Russia's voice. "I'd still like to hear the answer to my other question." China did not turn around-dared not to- and just stood there, compelled by the tiny desperation in Russia's voice to stay and listen. "Do you like me?"

China stiffened at the simple question. Here and now, how easy it would be to end their limbo of ambiguity. "Yes" and their relationship would turn into something they never could've imagine. "No" and perhaps Russia would finally leave him to pursue someone else, someone who will return his affections.

Afraid to make a choice, China chose neither. Again his damning silence was the only answer he gave him.

"I like you, Yao," Russia whispered against the shushing wind.

China's heart clenched at the words. He opened his mouth to respond, a rejection or reassurance on the tip of his tongue, but his throat constricted and his voice refused to come. Seconds dragged into minutes. The silence lingered heavily upon their shoulders. When the moment to answer passed, his voice finally came back to him; he could finally breathe again. China sighed and said the first thing that came to this frustrated mind, "Don't call me Yao."

December 9, 1991

"Yao, did you hear me?" His boss asked.

China could only stutter a nonsensical reply. The world was suddenly collapsing around him. His heart laid in shattered pieces at his feet, broken by the words that left his boss's lips. He reached to touch his heart, wondering if it was still beating. His pulse was still there, strong and resilient, but all he felt was a gaping hole where his heart should be. He rubbed the dull ache in his chest, the pain fading away as numbness settled over him.

"I said the Soviet Union just dissolved. We need to take action."

Some part of China's mind heard his boss mention about boosting their economy and building stronger relations with America. From a faraway place, he heard someone answer with his voice, but China paid no heed to the conversation. One string of thought played over and over in his mind, distracting him, filling him with icy calm.

The man he knew as Ivan Braginsky was dead.

Nothing.

He felt nothing at all.

The other nations thought him heartless. An ice princess they called him when they thought he couldn't hear. Long, long ago perhaps they would've be right. His immortality froze his ticking clock, but maybe in the process, froze his heart as well. He'd seen it all, seen too much. The death of a nation was insignificant. Like the land around them, nothing stayed the same. Things changed, people grew old, society morphed. What was there to morn? To cry? Death was just another step in life. To feel nothing, to love nothing, he was cold as ice they told him. What they didn't know and would never know was that his frozen heart paralyzed his emotions, but saved him from the pain of loss as well.

1925
Hands colder than the northern winds pressed hard against his cheeks.

"What are you doing aru!" Shocked awake, China quickly slapped the icy hands away.

Russia's laughter sounded odd in the empty training field. "See? You dohave emotions. My cute little Yao is not some porcelain doll~ He has feelings too."

Scowling-he always seemed to scowl whenever the Russian was around- China briskly walked off in any direction. He didn't care as long as it was away from the Imperialist nation.

With longer legs and a bounce to steps, it took Russia no effort at all to keep up with China's bigger strides. Side by side, they walked the field in silence: China determined to ignore Russia's existence and in turn, the Russian was content being in his presence.

After a while of walking without words, Russia finally spoke. "Do you like me, China?"

Surprised by the question, China stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned to the man beside him and scoffed, " I don't think that question deserves an answer aru."

Unoffended- taking it as a joke- Russia chuckled good naturedly at China's response. "You will one day." He reached a hand and tucked a loose hair behind the smaller nation's ear, taking almost no notice when China flinched at his touch.

1991
When the discussion finished, China quietly excused himself. Listlessly, he walked down the empty hallway with no destination in mind. He went wherever his feet led him and soon he was standing in the garden.

In the dead of winter, nothing bloomed except for the occasional five petals of snowflakes. Up high in the trees, early buds of plum blossoms could be seen, but it was still months off before color would come visit this dreary place.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Crisp air filled his lung, soothing the burn in his chest. Slowly, almost regretfully, he let it all out with a sigh. Weariness seeped into his bones. Tiredly, he opened his eyes and felt his gaze drawn to base of the plum tree. Sitting in the shade of the tree was a delicately painted flower pot, alone and unattended. He swallowed at the sight of it, the bitterness of his feeling sliding down his throat like bile.

Slightly trembling, his hands brushed against its side tenderly like it was a fragile thing, like it would disappear at his touch. He received the gift with utter contempt, but despite his hateful words, he took precious, precious care of it. He pruned, he watered, but no matter what he did, the sunflower never bloomed.

1908
"What are you doing aru?" China shouted at the suspicious- and to his dismay- familiar figure roaming in his private garden.

At the sound of his voice, Russia turned towards him, a wide, silly grin on his face. "Look!" He held up a potted plant. "Ta-dah~ I'm giving you my favorite thing, a sunflower. Isn't it pretty? It's like a mini sun you can hold in your hand."

China ignored the present. "Who allowed you in here?" he demanded, stalking ferociously towards the larger man.

Russia waved off the question like it was no concern. He crouched low to the ground and began eyeing it critically. "Now where should I plant this?"

Squatting right beside the irritating nation, China snatched the sunflower away. "Don't plant it aru! You'll ruin the feng shui!"

China glared into bewildered violet eyes. His mouth opened to admonish the Russian even further, but before a word left his lips, Russia unexpectedly blurted out, "I like you, China."

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Excuse me aru?"

Russia looked away, a telltale blush on his cheeks. "I like you. Really like you," he murmured to his knees.

Embarrassed for the other nation, heat crept up China's neck collar. He cleared his throat to disperse a little bit of his own awkwardness. "Um...this is the first time I heard of it aru."

Russia lifted his head, a smirk already forming on his lips. "Is that a yes then?"

Shocked momentarily speechless by his audacity, China stared. A headache was coming on, he could feel the beginning of a dull throb in his skull. Closing his eyes, he lifted a hand to massage his forehead. He sighed exasperatedly, "Of course it doesn't mean ye-"

Russia did not miss his chance. He took advantage of China's close proximity and stole a kiss. His did not linger, did not go beyond what was improper. It was a mere brushing of lips, a "hello", a taste of gentle adoration.

"Not the answer I wanted to hear." Russia smiled, unable to contain his happiness.

Anger like nothing he ever felt boiled in the pit of his stomach. China raised his fist to pummel the other man, but Russia danced himself a safe distance away from China's fury. He took it as his cue to leave while he still could in one piece.

"Take care of the plant, Yao," Russia called out behind him, "Think of it as me, ok?"

"If this is you," China replied with a bite to his voice, "I'm going to burn it!"

The potted plant was tightly held against his chest as Russia's laughter echoed in the garden.

1991
There no more laughter, no sunflower. The Soviet was gone. Ivan was dead. As the ice around his shattered heart began to crack, more memories swam to the surface. China turned away from the garden. He needed to be alone to compose himself.

Loneliness, he thought to himself, was his only faithful companion.

1945
Snow hailed from the sky like God's wrath upon mankind. They found safety in a frigid cave just before pure white engulfed the land around them. The thickness of their coat proved useless against the Arctic wind; its fangs bit into their skin like ravenous dogs. Afraid to light a fire lest their enemies find them, they huddled close together for warmth.

The storm continued to roar its fury at the world, at the bloodshed and countless lives lost. China watched on in silence, wondering why he felt so at peace when the world outside was being buried alive.

Russia interrupted his bleak musing. "Yao, do you like me?"

China spared him a glance, but quickly returned his gaze back to the raging snow. He hugged his knees closer to his chest and thought, This was no time or place to ask such a frivolous question.

A voice whispered back, Will there be a next time?

The weight of his duty, the burden of his people suddenly wore him down. He closed his eyes and laid his head on his mud crusted pants. "I don't know aru."

"You don't know or are you afraid to know?" A hand just as cold as the biting wind brushed across his cheek, but it was with such tenderness, China found himself comforted by the gentle touch.

"Why do you even like me aru?" China dodged Russia's question with a question of his own, "I never understood. All I ever done to you was chase you away. All I ever was, was rude and cruel to you aru." He drew in a ragged breath and hugged his knees tighter. "What is there to like?"

For a moment, Russia said nothing as he watched China closely. He had never seen the older nation look more weak or frail than this moment. It was as if China would shatter at a single touch. To have lived so long, to have survived so much and to only break when they're so close to victory made Russia clench his fist at the injustice of it all.

"I like you just because. There's no reason."

China's bitter laugh echoed in the small cave. "Of course there's no reason aru."

"No, listen to me," Russia grabbed his small shoulders and shook him, willing him to understand. "The first time I met you, I was only a child with wide eyes. I was wandering the old border when I saw you and your family from a distance. I don't know why, but I stood there watching you all interact. You kept screaming and yelling at them to behave and none of them listened to you. You chase them and they would run away. Another would pull at your hair or tear your sleeves. Watching you almost cry from frustration made me smile. I thought to myself, 'Here is a family that's more dysfunctional than my own.'"

Russia loosened his grip on China' s shoulders. He sat back down, slumping back against the cave wall. "To say I fell in love with you at first sight would be a lie. I kept going back to where I first saw you to see if I could catch a glimpse of a family worse than my own." His hand found a pile of pebbles by his feet and began idly throwing them out into the snow. "But the more I watched you all, the more I understood. No matter how much you all seemed to hate each other, you depend on each other, defend one another. Hate was just another form of love. Every time you yelled at your siblings, it was out of concern. No matter how bad things got, you still didn't abandon them. I wanted everything you gave them. The pat on the head for doing a good job. The loving smile. The hug that said everything was all right." The grim smile he gave China made the Chinese man ache for the small boy he never saw watching them. "When I realized this, I found myself hating you. You had what I wanted. I was dying from jealousy. Why couldn't someone love me like they do you?"

At the thought of his faraway siblings loving him, China's mind drifted to Korea. "You do aru. You have Belarus don't you?"

Russia looked down at him from his nose. "Ha ha, very funny. The great China knows a joke."

"It happens on occasion aru." For the first time in decades, China found himself smiling. The last few years have been hard on all of them. It was no time for jokes or happiness. China waved his hands for Russia to continue.

"One day, I saw Yong Soo pounce on you and grab your chest like he always does. I was giggling nonstop because I made me happy to realize that I wasn't the only one with crazy siblings, but...suddenly it just wasn't funny anymore. I wanted to murder him." Russia closed his eyes and when he opened them, the heat of his gaze made China shiver. "I wanted you. I was wrong. I didn't hate you for what you had. I hated you for giving it away to someone else other than me."

A strong breeze blew into the cave. China huddled closer to the Russian. He hoped Russia only thought he was cold and not because, after refusing for decades, he suddenly had the urge to touch him.

Late in the night with the past making it impossible to sleep, China sat at his desk, a sole candle burning brightly in his room. Slowly, he dipped his brush into the dark ink and penned his thoughts and memories onto paper.

1660
Another barbarian from the West came into their palace. It was nothing to be excited about, but as he passed by, one of them caught his eye and smiled at him. It was a boy that was no longer a boy, but was not yet a man. China quickly turned away, noting how hauntingly beautiful his violet eyes were.

我要控制我自己 (I need to control myself)
不会让谁看见我哭泣 (I will not let others see me cry)
装作漠不关心你(Pretending to not care about you)
不愿想起你 (Wish I was not thinking of you)
怪自己没有勇气 (I blame myself for not having courage)

1921
"If all you need is help, all you need to do is ask."

"But your service does not come without a price aru."

Leather brushed against his skin as a gloved hand traced the delicate line of his jaw. Like a caress, a voice sweet as honey soothingly whispered to him, "It's nothing you can't afford."

心痛得无法呼吸 (My heart aches until I cannot breathe)
找不到你留下的痕迹 (I can no longer find the traces you left behind)
眼睁睁的看着你 (I look at you)
却无能为力(and I am helpless)
任你消失在世界的尽头 (Letting you disappear from the end of this world)

1951
Soft lips pulled away from his and he found himself gazing into Russia's eyes.

"Do you love me, Yao?"

Words piled higher and higher until it wanted to spill from his mouth, but he swallowed it all back down, afraid of his own answer.

找不到坚强的理由 (I could not find the reason to be strong)
再也感觉不到你的温柔 (I no longer feel your tender warmth)
告诉我星空在哪头 (Tell me about the stars in the universe)
那里是否有尽头 (Where does it all end?)

1960
"Goodbye." Russia waited for China to say something, but he didn't.

Long after he was gone, China continued to stand where they parted, whispering the words, "goodbye, Ivan", to nothing but shadows.

就向流星许个心愿 (I'll make a wish to the shooting star)
让你知道我爱你 (To let you to know I love you)

As China waited patiently for the ink to dry, he scanned each word of his letter over and over until he committed it to memory. In silence, he folded the paper into thirds before slipping it into an envelope addressed to no one.

For a long, long time, he held the letter in his hands, tracing the edges of it fondly. Then, with a sorrowful smile, he lifted the letter to the candle and let it catch fire.

He watched the paper and his memories burn*, turning into nothing but ash. A breeze swept by and not even the ash remained as it floated away into the night sky.

To be continued...?

Was going to submit this into the RoChu-Squad Contest...but of course I went over the word count limit. Oh well. If you can, try to submit a entry of your own! We always look forward to new submissions ^^.

*There are two meanings in burning the letter. One of them can be Yao burning his love away or letting it die. The second meaning can be Yao sending Ivan his true feelings. In Chinese culture, the burning of paper is how the deceased receive letters, money, houses, etc.

I suppose this is a song-fic? My first! The song is called "星语心愿" (Wish from the Heart) by Celilia Cheung from the movie soundtrack "Fly Me to Polaris". I used four sources to translate the song so translations are off, but I tried to keep the meaning.

The burning of Yao's love letter was inspired by Setomi on deviantArt

I plan to rewrite "Memories" . Q_x Although I like the concept, I don't like the execution of it. Sooo...I guess expect a loose continuation of this fic?It'll be a little bit like "Cup of Wine" but with a happy ending! (kinda)

I have not written a historical fic in a looooong time. I forgot how much work it was...In the end, I bet I messed up the time period somewhere. This fic was NOT supposed to be historical so please don't read it like one, but after 4 days of editing the opening scene, I realized how shallow it was. It did not have the "oomph" I was looking for because 1) I purposely did not have Yao mention the words "love" or "like" until the letter so people might question how and why Yao would love Ivan enough to write a mushy letter lol 2) it lacked impact.

Even though it took a bit of juggling around, I thought adding bits and pieces of Ivan and Yao's interaction would help readers track the progress of Yao's affections. I also thought it would have a bigger impact when Yao burned the letter in the end.

1654: First official contact between Russia and China
1908: Random year I chose
1921: Soviet began to support the KMT
1925: The United Front is trained and supported by the Soviet
1931: Random year I chose. (The creation of Manchukuo)
1945: The Soviet Union launched the Soviet invasion of Manchuria, a massive military operation mobilizing 1.5 million soldiers against one million Kwantung Army troops, the last remaining Japanese military presence. Soviet forces won a decisive victory while the Kwantung suffered massive casualties, with 700,000 having surrendered. The Soviet Union distributed some of the weapons of the captured Kwantung Army to the CPC, who would go on to battle the KMT in the Chinese Civil War
1951: Random year I chose.
1960: Sino-Soviet Split (give or take a few years)
December 8, 1991: The leaders of Russia, Belarus and Ukraine signed the Belavezha Accords, dissolving the Soviet Union

(Dates that are not included in the fic, but will be in the loose sequel /rewrite of Memories)
December 25, 1991: The Soviet Union officially ended on 25 December 1991
December 26, 1991: The Russian Federation (formerly the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic) took power on 26 December