Chapter 5

Francis shifted uncomfortably in front of the ornate door. How long had he been standing here, exactly?

It hadn't been an easy journey. For one, Yao made himself a very difficult man to find. Francis wasn't even entirely sure where he was. After stepping off the plane in Beijing with nothing but a backpack containing a few changes of clothes, he'd gone to Yao's Beijing apartment. He knocked on the door and waited, but no one ever answered. The apartment manager downstairs told him the man who lived there was often gone for weeks at a time, and that he hadn't seen him lately.

"I think he only comes here for business," the man told him in Chinese. "I believe his true home must be somewhere else."

From there, Francis had taken a train, then a bus, and then walked for several miles down a dirt road in the rain, mud sticking to his shoes. He now found himself on the outskirts of a tiny village, deep in the Chinese countryside. He didn't know its name—only that the faded characters on the rickety sign down the road matched the ones Yao listed as his hometown on Facebook.

The villagers had directed him to this house when he showed them Yao's picture on his phone. It was old fashioned, for sure. Like the other dwellings in the village, it was constructed of stone and wood, and had clearly been built many years ago. Moss and mold grew in any crevice they could find on the exterior. Rain dripped from the flared roof, dribbling down around Francis as he stood in silence on the doorstep.

After a long pause, he rapped his knuckles against the door and waited.

"Děng yí xià!" Yao's voice called from somewhere within the house. Francis breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was in the right place.

After a moment, there was a sound of shuffling behind the door. Finally, the door opened a crack, Yao's face peering out. Francis had just begun to raise his hand in greeting when Yao pulled back in surprise.

"Yaaah!" he cried, seeming somewhat horrified to have Francis suddenly show up in his remote village. "What are you doing here? Did you not think to call in advance? You can't just invite yourself over! I haven't cleaned or anything!"

"Sorry," Francis muttered, the hints of a fake smile he'd put on for his greeting fading. "I did call, but you didn't answer."

Yao was silent for a moment, his eyes flitting away from Francis for a moment as he thought. "You did? Where is my phone?" He turned and stared back into the house as if the phone might be laying in plain sight. "Oh…tch," he huffed, turning back to face Francis. "I must have left it with Xiao when I went to visit him a few days ago. I guess since I wasn't expecting any calls I didn't notice."

"It's all right…" Francis sighed, somewhat unsurprised. China had never been one for keeping up with new technology. Even with all the advances of the 20th and 21st centuries, he still preferred to do things the traditional way. He still lived in this old house in rural China, still hung his clothes on a line outside, still practiced traditional medicine…

Which was why Francis was here, after all.

"Well, why don't you come in?" Yao said after an uncomfortable silence. "Aiyaa, you must be freezing…you're soaked!" He stepped aside and motioned for Francis to enter.

Francis slipped off his shoes in the entry way and slid them next to Yao's. The entry way was very modest, but it opened up almost immediately to a larger living area. While the outside of the house was very old, the inside was well-kept and neat. The walls were a deep red, polished wood that gleamed with the golden reflection of a few dim lamps throughout the room. There were a few couches and a low table in the middle. Statues and wall paintings of various creatures adorned much of the open space. Yao ducked out for a moment as Francis was admiring his home, and reappeared a moment later with a towel and an old bathrobe.

"Please, have a seat somewhere and dry yourself off while I make some tea," Yao said, handing Francis the towel and robe. "And when I come back you can tell me what brings you here."

With that, Yao again disappeared, leaving Francis alone with his thoughts.

It was actually nice to be somewhere so remote. After meeting with Lukas and Vlad, Francis had felt as if he were being judged for his mental and physical state. Lukas must have thought he was mad—showing up at his house unannounced, hair tangled and eyes dark—begging for a spell to put him to sleep. And Vlad—he just didn't seem to understand. While he had attempted a spell to put Francis to sleep, it had only lasted the night. When Francis had expressed that he needed more, that it needed to work for longer, Vlad had simply shrugged, suggesting he try sleep pills. Neither of them understood the gravity of the situation. Neither of them understood that he needed this. At least out here, in rural China where no one knew him and no one knew where he was, he was pleasantly isolated from his fellow nations.

He stripped himself down naked and dried himself with the towel Yao had brought him. The rain had rinsed off the layer of grime beginning to form on his skin from days of travel with few showers. He did feel a bit better, especially once he pulled on the bathrobe Yao had brought for him.

Yao still had not returned, so Francis pulled out his phone. Twelve-percent battery… Well, that was fine. Hopefully he'd be asleep soon anyway, and then he wouldn't need it anymore. There were several messages from England and other nations, none of which Francis had answered. Maybe he should send out something quick before his phone died, just to say goodbye… Then again, maybe it would be better if everyone just forgot about him entirely. Then he could just fade away into nonexistence—quietly—as nations often did when their time was up.

Soon, Yao was back with a tray, two cups of tea, and a few tea biscuits. He took a seat across from Francis and took a sip of his tea, relishing it for a moment before looking up at his guest.

"So tell me…" Yao began slowly. "What brings you all the way out here?"

Francis wasn't quite sure where to begin. "I need a favor."

"What sort of favor?"

Francis averted his eyes, choosing instead to direct his gaze into his cup of tea. The liquid within was a soft, calming green, not unlike the landscape outside.

"I need...medicine." Oh, how silly he felt. Yao was no fool. Had he honestly expected to come here and get some magic potion that would put him to sleep? Yao was going to judge him for being a naïve youngster and tell him to go home.

"Ah…" Yao hesitated, eyeing Francis with concern. Surely Francis's disheveled appearance betrayed that something was wrong. "For what, exactly?"

"Sleep."

"You can't sleep?"

"N-no…I can," Francis clarified. "But I need to sleep more."

Yao brought one leg up to cross it over the other. "Well, how much more sleep do you need to get? I could make you something, but I need to know how strong to make it."

"…A lot," Francis answered vaguely. Maybe if he was indirect enough, he could get what he wanted without cluing Yao in to what he was doing.

"A lot?" Yao echoed skeptically, his head angling toward Francis as if he wasn't sure he'd heard him right. "How much exactly?"

"Just…a lot," Francis said, again unhelpfully. He took a hurried sip of his tea, as if doing so would somehow protect him from Yao's increasingly suspicious gaze.

"Francis," Yao said sharply, slightly annoyed. "How long are you wanting to sleep for?"

Francis dared to glance up at Yao, only to see him staring down unwavering, like a parent demanding an answer from a child. He wasn't going to be able to avoid giving Yao a truthful answer.

"For…ever," he said softly.

Yao was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry…what did you say?"

"Forever."

"Forever?"

"Yes…"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Yao said, his features tightening with concern. "Are you exaggerating? You want to sleep 'forever,' as in a very long time? Or you do not want to wake up, ever?"

Unable to admit to the latter, Francis answered with his silence. Coming here was a mistake. What did he think he was going to accomplish?

When Francis did not answer, Yao leaned in closer. "Francis. What is going on? Why do you want to sleep forever?"

"It's personal," Francis muttered tersely. "I'm sorry, I think I should go." At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the remote loneliness of the Chinese countryside. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he really could fade away. He placed his teacup back onto the tray, and started to stand, but Yao shot out a hand and pulled him back down.

"No," Yao said firmly as he made sure Francis planted himself back down into his seat. "It's not about the sleep, is it? Tell me what's wrong."

Francis sat in still silence. Was Yao really going to make him confess about all his dreams, right here? Where to even begin?

"I've…been having dreams," he began quietly, refusing to meet Yao's gaze, though he could still feel the other's eyes on him.

"What sorts of dreams?" Yao pressed, his hand still grasping Francis's arm, though his grip had softened now.

"Very pleasant ones."

Francis could see Yao nodding slowly out of the corner of his eye.

"And what about these dreams makes them so pleasant?"

"I'm human and Ar—" Francis answered without missing a beat, but quickly stopped himself.

"And what?"

"…And I just wish I could experience more of them," he finished quickly, unwilling to mention Arthur's unfailing presence in his dreams. He managed to lift his eyes up to meet Yao's momentarily.

Yao eyed him with a mixture of concern and pity. "So, let me get this straight—you want to sleep forever, so your life can become these dreams?"

Francis nodded slowly, hoping Yao understood his dilemma. He must, mustn't he? After all, China had been around so long—it was hard to imagine him not having this sentiment at one time or another.

But after a pause, Yao replied, "Dreaming more of being human will not make you human."

Francis felt his heart sink. "I know," he sighed. "But it's the next best thing. I have always wanted that life for myself."

Outside, the rain continued to fall, pattering softly against the windows and trickling audibly from the roof. It was somewhat surreal, Francis thought. Almost like a dream in itself.

"There must be something about this life that makes you happy," Yao said after a moment.

"There's nothing," Francis muttered forlornly.

"But there must be," Yao insisted. "You're not just dreaming that you are human, but doing nothing more than sitting around being human are you? It's not just the act of being human that makes you happy. There must be something else. Something that humans do. Fall in love? Raise families?"

"Something like that…" Francis affirmed.

"You may not be human, but you can feel the same way they can," Yao went on. "You feel love and happiness. A dream is the truest reflection of the soul. You mourn for something you are missing in this life, and your dreams tell you so by filling in the gap. They're showing you what you want the most, but it's not just to be human, is it?"

Well, he wasn't wrong. Francis did want to be human, but he wanted to be human with Arthur. Francis wanted to share that life with him. Fall in love with him. Raise a family with him. Sure, he had come close, with Matthew and Alfred and the occasional visit with the four of them together. And yet, there had always been something missing. Maybe it was just knowing that it could never work out—the thought had always kept Francis from growing too attached to Arthur or Matthew or anyone, because one day the French people would come first and his love for his family would have to come second. It was why he'd never told Arthur how he really felt. It was why he'd never even tried.

But Arthur's love was what he wanted the most. Even a small taste of a life with Arthur—a tiny feeling of normalcy brought on by the regularity of their interactions, the tiniest feeling that Francis somehow mattered to him—was enough to make him miss a relationship that never truly was. It was the closest thing to being human he had.

"Maybe you can miss something you never had," Francis mused, looking up at Yao at last. "As long as it's something that matters enough."

Yao took another sip of tea and eyed Francis with curiosity. "And is it the part about being human that matters most?"

"No," Francis admitted. "It's not."

"Then why dwell on something that can never be?" Yao asked. "You can never be human, and sleeping forever will not change that. But these other things you dream about… if there is some chance of them being real to you, you should try to focus on those. In this life."

When Francis only responded with a slow nod, Yao finally released his grip on the other's arm and sat back down in his seat.

"I'm sorry. I can see you don't want to tell me the full story," Yao confessed.

"No…you're right," Francis said sadly. "No matter how pleasant they are, they'll never be real. Even if I dream the same dreams forever, they won't be the same as the real thing. They only exist in my own head. And what I truly desire…it has to be shared."

"With who?"

"With—"

There was a knock at the door, and Yao held up a finger to silence Francis mid-sentence. "Hold that thought," he said as he rose to answer it.

Francis sighed, letting his head hang loosely from his neck as he stared down at his reflection in his tea. What a miserable creature he'd become…

His self-deprecating thoughts were quickly interrupted by a commotion in the entry way.

"You can't just barge in!" Yao cried out, apparently scuffling with someone in the doorway.

Francis finally looked up to see what all the fuss was about.

And making a beeline right towards him was Arthur.

Notes:

Děng yí xià! = wait a moment