[Fanfic] Better Not to Have

[loveliita.livejournal.com]

Title: Better to Love than to have Never Loved
Characters: Vietnam-centric, America, mentions of France
Warnings: Um, Viet is kinda crazy. It may be offensive to Vietnamese people?
Rating: PG
Summary: Vietnam thinks a lot as she watches America land and come meet her during WW2. Short.

 

 

 The plane. She could see it landing now, falling slowly from the cloudless sky. Cautiously, softly, gently.
The last time she saw planes of this sort, they were aggressive beasts in speedy flight, dropping bombs. One after another. One after another. One after another, everywhere…

Vietnam shook her head, taut ponytail shaking from side to side as she did so. This part of her country, at least, had been retaken. Safe. She hid here from the rest of her needy people, in a dirty, poverty-addled corner of her house that she could call paradise after a few years in the less fortunate parts. Where Japan still was.

She wanted fiercely to fight him. She wanted horribly to feel his neck twist under her rough hands, worn from harvesting and plowing and murdering. She wanted to hurt him like he hurt her, in the name of co-prosperity. Please. Vietnam had not had a lick of prosperity in years and years, but she was not one to dwell on her own past. She had grudges, hatreds that spanned far over the globe that she paid more attention. In dark times, she sat in her room and broke things and bled and screamed and consoled herself only by twisted thoughts of harming all those that wronged her. She had no bloodlust, she strained to say, she only wanted to feel better after everything. That’s what all nations did in the secret depths of their souls; their fragile hearts and minds led them to intense thoughts of revenge that were usually acted upon, wasn’t that it? They were stronger than humans but not, in so many ways that they themselves did not even touch upon.

 

France, who gained her trust once and only conquered her greedily, who scraped at her lands as she desperately tried to forgive him for everything, forgive him, forgive his crimes against her. Tried to remember the good things he did. But her mind was not wired to look at the good things when it came to other nations.

And then France, too weak to protect her and her siblings, left. Forever, maybe. Let Japan have his way, let the powerful island nation tear at her lands and her people and her soul. His weakness was sickening.
But she was just like him.

 

Again and again, watching the dark metal bird in its long task of landing in her dirty little airport, she returned to deep and dark, gruesome thoughts. She might say that they haunted her, but in fact, they were a sort of comfort in most times. The spite and anger it produced distracted her from everything at hand, all the overused resources, overworked people, the dead people…

 

Yes. Vietnam was an awful person, relying on anger to fix things where it really should not meddle with the light use of forgiveness. But she was not forgiving, could never ever be truly forgiving, and she was sure she suffered for that. Whatever. They were all going to hell anyway. Her eyes glinted towards the blonde man who came smilingly from the airplane, waving everywhere, everywhere, as if not seeing that she was the nation he sought.

He was handsome, strong, endearing, happy, firm, just, lively…

And she would fall for him.

He was just like France.

 

‘Idiot.’ Vietnam thought at the sight of him

 

and then wondered who she was referring to.