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The doorbell rang.
Which- in Israel's experiences, living in this shared apartment- was never really much fun. He sat up a bit straighter, simultaneously leaning back, arms defensively folding across his chest as he waited for Palestine to open the door and let in a hoard of his angry relatives, all screaming that Israel should go die, because hell if all of Israel's neighbors hated his guts-
Which was really unfair! When Israel had first moved in- there had been a bunch of fighting, and arguments, sure, but- he needed a place to stay! And this had to be his home- he had nowhere else to turn to! And- in his defense- Palestine had grabbed the frying pan first. It wasn't Israel's fault that it had been so easy to twist it away from him... It wasn't Israel's fault that, in a moment of blinded anger, he may or may not have whapped Palestine in the face with a frying pan.
No matter what happened that day, when the two had finally unleashed the full potential of their anger... most of the hateful looks fell on Israel, since Palestine had emerged with more serious wounds. Israel was violent, and impulsive, apparently. It didn't matter that Palestine had probably started it first. He'd grabbed the frying pan first! It didn't matter what Israel had said before, or whether they'd both lost their temper-
They both emerged thoroughly beat up, both their reputations stained, and with a quiet, continuous loathing for one another. And they still lived in the same apartment. Because no one was willing to move. Israel always sarcastically commented that if Palestine's neighbors really cared so much about him, they'd let him stay with them- but then Palestine retorted that Israel was just trying to shove him out- which he kind of was- but none of them wanted to leave the apartment. So they were stuck here, for now, while everyone else dug through records of real estate and fought and their corner of the world fell to chaos-
But yes. The doorbell rang.
Palestine immediately hopped up from when he'd been sitting next to the window, practically sunbathing like a cat, and immediately moved to the door, going up on his tip-toes so that his short body was tall enough to see through the peeky hole-
His deep green eyes lit up in a surprisingly adorable way (but Israel obviously wasn't watching him), and he immediately threw open the door, squishing the person on the other side into a hug-
Israel glanced up, relaxing a bit. It was just East Turkestan.
She was wearing a floppy, light blue hoodie, hood pulled up over her head, hair tucked and hidden behind. Her usual, light blue mask was pushed to the side of her face, looking just a tiny bit eerie, always floating there, a reminder of a darker aspect of her life... She was also wearing a pair of light grey leggings- and a pair of black, thigh-high leather boots, that seemed to make her nearly radiate pure confidence and determination-
Which was especially terrifying, considering the fact that her soft, but fiercely intense sky blue gaze was focused right on Israel.
East Turkestan smirked lightly as Palestine's smile faded a bit, and she glanced between the two of them, gaze growing more and more intense.
"I think it's time for you two to get therapy."
.
.
.
"Why didn't you just drag us to Switzerland's office?" Israel asked, a bit incredulously as the three made their way through a park, for some reason.
"I was actually considering taking you to Turkmenistan." East Turkestan replied, tilting her head thoughtfully, "He has a lovely equine therapy program- but I was just a bit worried that that might bring back your horse-riding, sword-fighting days... so we're sticking to my own strategy!"
"Why can't we just sit in a room and talk?" Palestine asked, a bit bluntly, looking disgruntled with all this.
"I don't like that kind of therapy- it's so easy to lie, or hide your real feelings, or feel... pressured by people around you." East Turkestan hummed happily, stepping off the main path, and standing in front of a tree, "I prefer this strategy."
There was a long pause of silence.
Israel and Palestine exchanged a glance, before pointedly looking away, raising their heads and narrowing their eyes in opposite directions.
East Turkestan sighed, crossing her arms, "Okay. Why don't you two start off with this?" She held up a piece of cloth, "Which of you wants to be blindfolded first?"
At once, both Palestine and Israel sputtered with pure indignation.
"Blindfolded????" Palestine demanded, "Why???"
"Yeah!" Israel agreed, "Why would you want to blindfold us?"
"Well... since you two have so sweetly agreed with eachother-" East said, with a sickeningly smug smile.
Israel and Palestine glared.
"We can settle for this instead!" East clapped her hands, making the other two countries jump, "Palestine! Cover Israel's eyes!"
Palestine paused, glancing around, "With... like... a leaf? Or something?"
"A leaf?" Israel snorted, "You really are backwards, aren't you?"
Palestine glowered, "Or I could just blind you. Same result."
"ALRIGHT GUYS!!" East clapped her hands, with such exaggerated cheerfulness that Israel and Palestine nearly were blinded by her smile, "No one is blinding eachother! Palestine! Walk up, and put your hands over Israel's eyes."
There was a long pause of silence.
"You mean... touch him?" Palestine asked, a bit uneasily.
"Of course!" East replied cheerfully, though it was more akin to a bright smile teachers often employ to try conserving measures of their own sanity in the face of the idiocy of their students.
"No." Israel crossed his arms, "No way. I don't consent to this."
Palestine- seeing Israel's disagreement- smirked and snuck up behind him...
Israel groaned softly, moving to face palm, but before he could slap his forehead with his hand-
Palestine's hands moved over his eyes, lightly squeezing the side of his face.
There was a long pause of silence, as Israel waited for Palestine to squish his face until his brains dripped out.
But he didn't. Maybe Palestine just wasn't in the mood for brains dripping onto his hands..?
"Okay, so now what's going to happen-" East Turkestan continued, as Israel shifted uncomfortably...
Palestine's hands were warm. Maybe it was because he was nervous...? But if he was nervous... what if his hands got sweaty..??? Panicked thoughts flashed through Israel's mind- before he realized that he'd missed what East Turkestan had just said.
"Okay!" Palestine said, surprisingly cheerfully, "Makes sense to me!"
"Just remember- no bugs, or living animals- no goose poop-" East Turkestan said, a bit firmly, "Okay? Try being nice and sane for just a bit."
"I promise nothing!" Palestine said, surprisingly happily, just as Israel faltered.
"Bugs? G-goose poop...? What's happening?" he asked blearily.
"Don't worry!" Palestine replied cheerfully, "Just walk!"
Palestine, still behind Israel and covering his eyes, took a step forward and walked into Israel's backside.
Israel sputtered with alarm, immediately trying to pull forward and move away, but Palestine's grip on his face was tight, and he was moving back-
East Turkestan sighed, quietly rubbing her temples. This was going to be quite a long day....
.
.
.
It took them at least twenty minutes of East drilling their steps until they could move in a somewhat coordinated manner, Israel immediately reacting to Palestine's motions, and either stopping or walking on.
The only benefit to this, was that if anyone in the park was giving them weird looks, Israel couldn't see.
Part of him thought that he should be the one covering Palestine's eyes. Not only because he would have been using one hand to cover his sight, and the other to silently guide him, instead of barking out orders while squishing his face- But... because... Israel would have appreciated the oppurtunity.
With a moment of spilled over anger- everything had fallen apart. Hitting someone with a frying pan isn't a very nice thing to have floating around you conscience, and no matter who 'started' it- whatever that even meant- Israel knew that it took two to play the game, and he'd been a player. Israel had... regretted it. How could he not? But the tense air between them felt thick and firm, like an unsaleable wall that only glares could cross through- Israel could never work up the courage to walk up to Palestine and say "Sorry".
One word. One, tiny word. And he was too scared to say it. So they were stuck like this. But if Israel was the one, carefully guiding Palestine into the unknown... he'd have a chance to silently, but genuinely display his regret, his slight care for the other man.... A chance to say 'I'm sorry' through a gentle manner, and soft-spoken words. A chance for the ice between them to thaw back into a peaceful, rippling lake.
But instead Palestine was the one, hands wrapped in front of Israel's eyes. Israel was counting the steps until Palestine led him into a brick wall.
But the number Israel counted grew higher... and higher...
And there was no brick wall.
Not yet at least. Israel was still bracing himself, but keeping up the tense pose just felt plain stupid as he stumbled along rough, uneven, unfamiliar terrain-
Until they stopped. Not because Israel had been led into a brick wall, but because... he'd just stopped.
"Hold out your hand." Palestine suddenly said, voice surprisingly... neutral. Not hateful, or angry, just a bit... casual, maybe a hint of excitement somewhere there.
Movements heavy with hesitation, Israel stretched out his hand- and something was placed on it. That something felt... a bit... damp... thin... crackly...
Israel grimaced a bit, "What..?"
"Guess!" East Turkestan's voice said cheerfully, "Guess what's in your hand!"
There was a long pause of silence.
Israel squished the thing in his hand. It crackled slightly, like, "Paper...", except it was a bit damp, like... "Does it have dew on it?", and then it seemed to.... "Is that a stem...?"
There was a long pause of silence.
"Leaf?" Israel asked a bit blankly, still not entirely sure what was going on.
But the sudden, explosive, happy cheering noises from East Turkestan- and Palestine- convinced him that he'd found the right answer. Palestine moved his hands away, un-blinding Israel....
And in Israel's carefully cupped hands... was a leaf.
He smiled for some reason- why was he smiling?? And when he looked up- Palestine was smiling too....
"Alright guys!" East Turkestan clapped her hands cheerfully, "Now look!"
Israel paused, "Look at what?"
East Turkestan grabbed his face, and pointed it at the sky. His expression relaxed. The sky was the same shade of blue as East Turkestan's flag- a bright, yet soft, constant and endless shade of blue- a perfect sky that seemed to envelope the entire world. Small, wispy clouds stretched out against small expanses of the sky, before fading back into that familiar color...
"It's beautiful." East Turkestan said, in a small, quiet voice.
And Israel felt inclined to agree. There was something a bit strange- well- it was... just the sky. It was always above him, but... right now it felt... calming. Enlightening, in a way.
He found himself glancing to the side- Palestine was gazing listlessly at the sky, deep green eyes bright and happy-
Palestine's soft green gaze met Israel's dark blue stare... for a moment... and a moment longer.
Neither looked away. Both their faces were frozen into their previous smiles until... Palestine's expression softened a bit.
He bent down, and picked up the leaf Israel had let go of after the little blind-session... and he handed it to Israel, handling the delicate piece of foliage with surprising care.
Israel picked it up, glancing at it with a more calm and... interested eye, tracing his gaze against the thin, traced out veins, that stood out against the brighter, yet paler body of the leaf, leading down to the thin, firm stem, the edges of the leaf dry and crackling, corners curling up, and almost frozen in place-
It was... strangely beautiful. Just a leaf. He would have stomped over it without any other thought, on any other day, but- Maybe part of him was tired of ignorantly stepping over everything below him, crossing through forests and roads without looking around, passing through life without seeing what he was even passing through-
Israel exhaled softly, and slowly lowered himself, closer to the ground, gazing at the thin, sharp, yet soft blades of grass, that yielded to his touch, bowing down, lightly glimmering in the soft sunlight- He felt a childish urge to tear some out of the ground, watch the thin, brown roots be exposed to open air- But instead, he let what was hidden remain hidden, instead of digging deeper, tearing it out of the ground- He let everything remain in its place, and studied what was open to him, in this tiny corner of the world...
There was pressing anxiety in the corner of his mind, a continuing list of things- Go home, wash the dishes, do my work-. It felt almost like a waste of time, sitting here, crouching on the ground, staring at grass. Why was he doing this again...?
He glanced to his side, at Palestine, who had scaled a tree like a cat, and was sitting on a branch, leaning against the firm trunk of the tree, hands trailing across the leaves covering the tree's dark, wooden arms, expression soft and distant.
It was... beautiful in a way. Not Palestine, but- just... the world. The grass... the tree... those stupid leaves- It was oddly... calming. Satisfying, almost.
Israel took a deep breath and carefully stood up, taking small, surprisingly gentle steps over the grass, and stopping at the base of the tree, glancing up-
"Hi." Palestine glanced down at Israel, hands still trailing across the tree branch, "This is a very nice tree."
Israel smiled, softly, "I can see that."
Palestine tilted his head, pausing for a moment, "Would you like to... join me..? In the tree?"
Israel hesitated, "I can't climb.."
"Oh."
There was another slow pause of silence.
"Would you like me to... help you up?" Palestine asked, springing down from the tree, bringing himself to the same level as Israel, in order to help them both rise up... together.
Without any thought, or hesitation, or deeper consideration, without letting anything get in the way- Palestine held one of Israel's hands, turning back to the tree.
"Watch me." Palestine said.
And Israel watched, feeling Palestine let go of his hand, before turning back to the tree. He gently placed his hands on the trunk- firm, strong, unmovable, dependable- before placing his feet on a small, uneven knot on the side of the tree- a slight imperfection that only served to aid a greater purpose. Palestine leaned forward, resting his arms on a higher branch for a moment, testing its strength, before- evidently satisfied- fully hoisting himself up, and peering down at Israel.
"You don't have to climb too high. Just find a good branch to lean on." Palestine smiled, before lifting himself, leaving the branch he'd previously occupied now open to Israel.
Israel paused, before stepping forward, cautiously placing his hands on the tree's trunk. It was rough, uneven, hard and jagged in a way, with bits of dirt in between the groves- now really wasn't a good time to be wearing a suit, but... he could always wash it. He would wash it eventually, even if it didn't get dirty. Why not actually have a reason to wash it, besides wearing it for a few days, besides the simply, continuous need to?
So he placed his foot on the same little stub as Palestine, eyes narrowed- not with anger, but with light concentration- gaze careful and studying. There was still that tiny push- climb faster and get it over with, stop wasting time- but part of him wanted to break away from his fast-paced life, part of him wanted to just take small, slow steps, and enjoy every moment of it.
Slowly, he managed to pull himself up- legs shaking a bit since he'd never climbed a tree before, and was never really an outdoors person anyways, and wasn't in the greatest shape- but he wrapped his arms around the branch, before-
Pausing. And kind of just hanging there.
Palestine grinned, lowering his head from a higher part of the tree, "Want me to pull you up?"
Israel sighed, but stretched out his hand- And Palestine took it, in a slow, firm grip. For some reason, Israel didn't find himself considering Palestine letting go, or simply shoving him off the tree- And Palestine didn't.
Instead, he helped pull Israel up higher... higher... until he gained a firm grip on the tree, practically hugging the trunk for a moment-
"We're only, like, a few feet up." Palestine laughed, "Don't look so scared-"
"I've never climbed a tree before!" Israel snapped, more defensively than angrily, "And I don't like heights!"
Palestine gave him a surprisingly sympathetic look, "Just relax. I haven't fallen yet. You won't either. I won't let you."
Israel paused before nodding, uncertainly, unsure why that statement actually quelled some of his anxieties-
He turned away from the trunk, until he was only lightly leaning against it, eyes trailing across the tree- peering up, directly into what seemed to be a maze of deep, lightly glistening and dappling leaves-
And of course Palestine's face was grinning down at him.
"Higher?" He asked, stretching out a hand.
Israel sighed deeply, looking away, "This is high enough."
Palestine didn't press further, or make fun of him. Instead, the two finally settled down in their respective branches, eyes trailing to the sky, the leaves surronding them, or down to the ground, simply studying this tiny, yet overwhelmingly large and beautiful corner of the world.
There was silence. And there was peace.
Time passed, but the usual buzz of fast-paced life was distant, all the usual pressure and anxiety long gone.
"It's beautiful here." Palestine said in a small, soft voice.
Israel nodded in agreement.
After a minute, or ten minutes, or maybe an hour had passed, Palestine finally sprung down to the ground, dusting off his hands. Israel followed shortly, managing to slowly lower himself, exhaling softly once his feet were finally on firm ground.
The two glanced at East Turkestan, who had been busy lying on her back and staring blankly at the sky, at that painfully familiar shade of blue, her mask removed from the side of her face, and lying on the ground besides her, dark, empty eyeholes staring up at the sky-
Palestine gave her a soft look, sitting down besides her, drawing his knees up to his chest, "East..?" He asked, in a slow voice, "Are you okay?"
East Turkestan sighed deeply- as Israel watched curiously from a corner- "Just the usual stuff. China."
"Oh." Palestine said, with a degree of empty understanding.
The awkward silence following barely had time to settle, before East Turkestan's phone began ringing in a shrill, insistent tone that seemed to pierce through the soft, slow natural air, and jolt everyone back into reality.
East Turkestan picked it up, and she and Palestine stared at the caller for a moment.
"Speak of the devil.." he said softly.
".. and he doth appear." Palestine replied in a flat, disdainful tone.
"What devil?" Israel asked, leaning closer, pausing as he saw the name 'CHINA', "Oh. That devil."
East Turkestan sighed, sitting up and grabbing her mask, before standing up and answering the phone.
"Hello- No, I- I'm literally just at the park, with- No I'm not talking to Russia, can you stop it with me and- No, not America, can you please just stop it? Why do you feel like you have a legal obligation to control every aspect of my li- Oh. No, stop it! You're such a jerk sometimes!"
Israel and Palestine exchanged a concerned glance as she began pacing around in a rushed, stressed manner that clashed horribly with the peaceful world around them.
Maybe another therapy session was needed....