Chasing Liberty // Countryhumans North Korea fanfiction

Potential

  It was incredibly noble of China to assist in their war effort, and to go above and beyond what he and his leaders had agreed on with North’s government by coming personally. Truly it was a sign of how deep the bonds between Socialist governments and people could be that he was risking himself by not only coming to Korea, but marching to the front line with them.

     At least that’s what North kept telling himself as they crossed the hundreds of ri between them and the Chongchon River, and his patience wore thinner and thinner as it rubbed against the snag that was the Chinese Countryhuman.

    Perhaps, he was beginning to think, Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai had not sent China to them because he was useful or overly useless. Perhaps he had been sent just to get him away from them. Because he was so. Fucking. Annoying.

    North had been prepared for the odd, slightly enigmatic quips. He hadn’t been pleased about it, but he had been prepared. And he was receiving those in spades. But more than that, the foreigner was asking so many damn questions.

     From almost the moment they had set out and he had drifted over to their column, he had been pestering North with them. Not rapid-fire like Hae or taking the time to write the answers down like Hwang. Instead, after a good ten minutes of silence that was starting to feel precious, China would slink silently up behind him to ask something, give that annoying smile of his, ‘Hmmm,’ then drop back a few paces as if ruminating on the answer before eventually returning to ask another.

   Chagang taking up position in his blind spot had made North twitchy for the first few days, constantly looking to his right, but he had eventually come to appreciate it as it meant China couldn’t surprise him completely with his questions. He didn’t know what it was, but his usual shoulder-prickle that meant someone was approaching him didn’t seem to work on the foreigner.

    The questions weren't even things he could dodge by saying that the answers were confidential or classified because China never asked anything about his military or government, but overwhelmingly useless things that made North’s teeth itch and forced him to clench them as hard as possible in order not to tell an ally to ‘shut the fuck up,’ which he couldn’t do because some of the General’s last words during their painfully short time together before he had set out had been a reminder to be polite.

    Because of that reminder, he was forced to respond to the queries, choosing to use increasingly short answers and frequently asking if China shouldn’t be travelling with his own column, to which the foreigner always replied with some variation of ‘They’re doing well enough without me, it looks like,’ not getting the hint at all.

    Some of these frustratingly mundane questions and answers had been:

   “What’s your favourite colour?” “Having a favourite colour is useless.”

   “What’s your favourite food?” “I don’t have one.”

    “Do you like tea?” “I will drink it.”

    “When it comes to meals, do you feel flavour or presentation is more important?” “Nutrients.”

     “What do you think of Trotsky?” “If you tell me you’re a Trotskyist, so help me-“

    China had laughed. “I’m a Marxist-Leninist through and through. And what about you?”

   “Obviously,” North had snorted, then been blessed with another period of silence.

    But he could feel China watching him from a few steps behind. Well, he couldn’t feel it but he knew he was. Yet every time he turned to look, the foreigner was speaking to Commanders Ryu Su-gil and Won Ju-sik, or to North Pyongan or Chagang. Not pestering them with questions, North couldn’t help but note. He didn’t seem to be naturally curious like Hwang or Hae, but instead purposefully trying to antagonize him.