Butterflies 🦋 RoChu Short Story

🦋Butterflies🦋

Before you read, just a few warnings;

There are historical references to the Cold War and the fall of the Soviet Union. Don't like, don't read.

There will also be a few phrases in different languages, though I suspect if you've read other RoChu stories you'll already know what each mean.

However if you do not, then there are translations at the very bottom of the story.

Yao frowned a bit as he woke to the sound of whimpering and sniffling. Rolling over in bed, he inspected Ivan's face, and to his surprise, saw tear tracks running down his pale cheeks.

Startled a bit, and as he'd never seen the intimidating Russian cry, he reached a hand outward. Gripping Ivan's shoulder with his thin fingers, Yao gently tried to shake the man awake.

This only seemed to make matters worse, as Ivan began to mumble out loud.

"No, please don't go," he whimpered pitifully. Yao's expression softened, as he realized what Ivan must be dreaming about.

The Soviet Union falling had been one of the worst things to happen to Ivan, as Yao had picked up on. The Baltics, several other countries, and Ivan's own sisters had left him alone. The Union has been such a huge part of the Russian's heart that the betrayal had crushed him.

He hadn't spoken to anyone for the next several weeks, prompting Yao to check on him. Things had not gone well between them in the Cold War, with the Sino-Soviet Treaty and conflicts, but it was no surprise to either of the two representations that deep down they still cared for each other's well being.

So that's why Yao had managed to convince Ivan to speak to him, to open up the closed doors he sat behind. Both metaphorically and literally, as Ivan had also shut anyone out of the large house (that in all honesty could be considered a mansion) that he lived in.

With this in mind, Yao continued to try to wake up Ivan.

"Come on, wake up," Yao began to speak, shaking Ivan a bit harder. "Wi-hahn, please."

As Yao raised his voice, Ivan stopped his whispering and slowly blinked open teary amethyst eyes to look at Yao.

For a moment, he seemed confused, before his expression hardened and he sat up. He averted his gaze from Yao's, instead looking out the glass patio door to the right of the room, where early morning sunlight filtered in.

They rays filtered around and through the curtains, and cast long rays across the hardwood floor of the room. Just outside, dew was forming on the blades of grass and leaves of flowers.

"Are you alright?" Yao asked softly, not moving his hand away from Ivan's shoulder. His amber eyes searched and scanned the Russian for any reaction.

Ivan brought a hand up to his face, scrubbing away the tears furiously. He took a deep breath before responding.

"I am fine, YaoYao," his voice was soft, and Yao could hear the sadness that laced his words. Frowning, the Chinese also sat up.

"No you are not, aru," Yao stated plainly.

Ivan didn't respond for a moment, still staring out the patio door. Then his eyes narrowed and he frowned, turning back to Yao.

"I had a bad dream, that was all," his voice was concluding, as if warning Yao not to press the subject. And the Chinese took this to heart, immediately dropping the subject.

He sighed and kicked his legs over the side of the bed, his long dark hair flowing down his shoulders. He slipped on his slippers that sat neatly beside the bed; and before you go thinking anything random, no, they totally were not Hello Kitty slippers.