Yes, No, Maybe
He didn't know when it had started, but he knew exactly when it would end.
China could not - would not - tolerate Russia's continuous schemes to convince him to become one with Mother Russia any longer.
No, China did not know when he'd suddenly gotten used to the requests, or when it became normal for Russia to drop by his house at four in the morning just to tell him that he loved him.
No, China didn't know when he had started to say I love you back.
One thing he did know, was that it had to stop.
And yes, he found it just as irritating as he'd thought he would that he could never seem to do it, even though he'd promised himself time and time again he would.
Maybe it was the fact that Russia brought him sunflowers all the time - ones he'd grown by hand. Or perhaps it was the way he constantly offered his coat to him when they walked through the cold. It may have been the way Russia would pick the most beautiful flower he could find, tuck it in China's hair, and tell him that no matter how pretty the plant had been when he'd found it, it looked so bland when it was compared to China.
Or just maybe it was the fact that, no matter how many times China denied him, Russia would only come back and ask again, like he was absolutely determined to make him his.
But, wait, wasn't that the reason the older man was now standing at the other's door, waiting patiently for his knocks to be heard? He thought the habit was outrageous, right? He had come to end everything, hadn't he?
"Oh, China, it's you. What are you doing here at so late an hour?"
That was the moment that every unanswered question in China's head collided, making him snap, teetering off the edge into insanity. Or, what he deemed to be insanity, rather. There couldn't have been any other reason he would stand up on tip-toe, throw his arms around Russia's neck, and kiss him, could there?
It wasn't a surprise that Russia returned the kiss, although, honestly, he was rather startled at the seemingly sudden change of heart.
China still had so many questions, so many things to say. All of them seemed like futile efforts in describing the whirlwind of emotions inside him.
So much for ending it, he thought, still hugging Russia's neck, even after they'd broken the kiss. "Russia, aru," he said breathlessly, looking up into his eyes.
Regardless of how it happened, all the questions suddenly blew away as he succumbed to whatever his heart told him to do. "I'm yours."
No, China didn't know when it had started - when he'd began falling for his Russian ally - but at least he knew when he'd finally admitted it to himself.
It was the day he'd decided that he didn't mind when Russia ran his fingers through his hair, or that every time they embraced, he picked him up and swung him in a circle.
No, he didn't mind at all.
Yes, he finally decided that no doubting was necessary, because, darn it, he was in love.
And maybe, the next time Russia looked at him with those shining violet eyes and asked him to become one with him, China wouldn't say no.