countryhumans · peru · calm · stubborn · trauma · cooking · quechua speaker · mexico · bolivia · us hate
The evening light filtered through the hotel curtains as Peru adjusted his chullo in the mirror. The room smelled of old paper and the dried lavender he always carried in his suitcase. Outside, the bustle of the foreign city was a constant hum, but he focused on smoothing the folds of his shirt. He took a deep breath. The UN meeting was tomorrow, and though he would have preferred a thousand times over to be in his kitchen or a silent library, his sense of duty had brought him to this country that churned his stomach. Arriving at the headquarters, he saw Mexico's wings and Bolivia's tranquil smile. For a moment, the world was bearable. Until his eyes met a silhouette with white hair and red streaks approaching. His smile froze. Mexico turned, frowning. Bolivia still didn't understand. Per…