Sticky Notes And Trinkets(Rusame)

Rule Number Three: Best Friends Know Best

As soon as the class was over, he watched as America got their stuff together and waved goodbye to the teacher- Mrs. Dackermon if he remembered properly. She seemed nice so far. She'd actually been a lot more nice than she had been during orientation. He smiled a little, watching as America left, he frowned a little when he noticed how anxious America seemed while leaving.

He frowned a little, hoping that maybe he could find out what had made America anxious. He got up, going and collecting the little note he'd thrown to America. He read how America had responded and smiled. America had said: "I prefer He/Him pronouns, though I do not mind They/Them. Just don't use She/Her, thank you for asking." America had also drawn a cute little happy face beside his response. However, it depicted America with a ponytail, which was cute but America's hair looked short. He wondered now if America's hair had been long at some point, and if he'd preferred it that way, or if America had long hair and was somehow hiding it. He hoped that maybe America would trust him enough to let him know one day.

He sighed and walked to the lunchroom, looking around to see if his friend was there.

He didn't see him, but knew they had the same lunch period; so he took out his phone and called him.

His friend let it ring out, which was fun to say the least. He sighed and started looking around for Cuba, his friend who he'd know since diapers.

Eventually he spotted him and went over, excitedly greeting his friend. It was nice to be in the same school as him again; he'd honestly missed it.

"Hey Cuba! I tried to call you -"

"Yeah sorry, my phone got confiscated." Cuba responded with a shrug. "I'll get it back before I go home"

Russia gave a small nod as he followed Cuba around the lunch room. He wondered who Cuba had been telling him about, who the person he kept saying was definitely his type. He'd Never gotten a name or description of their appearance, just a bit about some of their personality and that he'd know them when he saw them.

"So.... Now that I'm here are you going to tell me who you think is my type?" He asked, taking a seat and pulling his food out of his bag.

"You haven't seen him?" Cuba sounded like he didn't believe him. "Fluffy hair, anxious, constantly in some type of oversized clothing?"

Russia considered the people he'd seen today, he could think of someone with fluffy hair, but that was America and he was wearing a white sweater that didn't look too oversized. The other had looked a little anxious though.

"Don't think so" Russia mumbled.

Cuba sighed, seemingly even more disappointed in him while he gestured for him to look out the window. "Over there, under the tree. That's him, You're telling me you haven't seen him?!"

Russia was confused for a moment, looking over there, not noticing at first. Then he saw America, and immediately realized that he'd fucked up. He already knew he'd fucked up, but finding out that it was America who Cuba had been telling him tidbits about made him realize he'd really fucked up.

"Cuba.... I uh, I fucked up" Russia mumbled, looking away from America and back at Cuba.

"What the fuck did you do?" Cuba asked, even more annoyed with him than he had been before.

"I uh... I told him to fuck off..." He mumbled, pausing before continuing. "Twice..."

He winced, being able to feel Cuba's disappointment in him.

"I... I think he thinks I'm going to be entirely hostile to him... So I just put a note on his locker..." He said, hoping it may lessen the disappointment in him.

"Did you sign it?" Cuba asked, seeming a little less disappointed in him.

When he shook his head, he heard an audible sigh from Cuba and could feel some of Cuba's disappointment return. He then felt Cuba pat him on the head, patting on top of his ushanka.

"Try to apologize to him at some point... Or just try to be less aggressive to him" Cuba suggested, sighing a little. "But at least you apologized."

Russia grumbled, burying his face in his arms more. Eventually he lifted his head and looked out the window again. He saw America get up and start coming towards the building.

He watched as America came in the building and felt anger bubbling within him when he heard someone call America an "Ugly fat-ass", which if Cuba was to be believed when it came to the "fat-ass" part- wasn't true- well mostly. Apparently the smaller male had a fat ass, but not in the negative and insulting way it was being said in. America was skinny, apparently. He hadn't seen it, he also wouldn't really care if it were true anyway, but Cuba assured him that he would see it soon. What Cuba meant by "soon", he had no damned clue. Because "Soon" could mean anywhere from the next day or three months to him. But as for the ugly part, he entirely disagreed- America was cute and beautiful. So he personally wanted to deck the person who said that.

"Cuba, I know you haven't told me why before, but how are you certain he's someone who I'd find physically attractive?" He asked, deciding he may as well try asking again.

"You'll see" Cuba said, rolling his eyes.

"When?" He pressed, hoping to finally get a more concrete time.

"Probably Friday, cause game day" Cuba responded with a shrug.

"Okay then..." Russia mumbled, not entirely sure if he should believe his friend. He doubted that game day could really have anything to do with America; the guy was cute, but what did that have to do with how he could see America as physically attractive.

He finished his lunch and packed the containers back into his bag, deciding to see if he could get a head start on getting to his third period. He knew it was gym, which was on the other side of campus.

Once he arrived on the other side of campus, he went into the boy's locker room, heading over to the empty locker that would probably be his. He got shorts and a blue T-shirt, it wasn't the official school top used for gym, but he'd been told at orientation that he'd get a proper one today. He heard some movement and looked around, spotting America, without a shirt, the other was covered in blue freckles, he had two visible red stripes around his waist. He had a feminine build, he found himself staring at nothing when his mind caught up with the time.

Cuba was right, America was his type.

With that thought, he changed into the black shorts and the blue T-shirt.