Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Friendships

"Hello?" Came his voice. It sounded groggy. He must've been asleep.

"Hey Russ, it's me."

"You sound sad. Why so?" Even with the weird English vocabulary he possessed, he still pinpointed everything. I wondered how he would know these super old and convoluted words, yet not find a synonym for 'sad'.

"Ah, nothing. My dad invites you and Germany to come to our house,"

"Us?" I heard Germany's voice.

"I'm on speakerphone," Russ explained.

"Got it." I said.

"But we can come. That's fine." He continued. "If it won't be a bother."

"My dad insists," I drawled.

"We'll come," Germany giggled in the background. "You can tell him that we'll be happy to."

"Okay, see you at the station," I acknowledged that they would be coming. "I need to clean my mess."

"Bye!" They both said and hung up. I looked around my room. My Saxophone stood near my beige closet door which was overflowing with clothes. Actually, my clothes were everywhere. On the floor, my bed (nobody can see the colour of my bed quilt) my desk and literally in every other nook and cranny there is. I guess that's where I start. I opened the Venetian blinds from my window and unlatched the lock to let air come into the room. Picking up my clothes was both gross and rewarding. I finally found my purple track team shirt. I got the shirt, but never ran the races. I wasn't going to lie on the ground, groping for water and wheezing. No thanks. I don't need to add asthma to my bad health list.

"Whacha doing, America?" Canada leaned against my doorframe.

"Cleaning."

"Happy Cleaning," he waved. "I'm meeting my friends down by the park. If New Zealand asks, tell him I'm hanging out, not smoking drugs." He said sternly. Last time I fibbed to New Zealand, and told him that his oldest brother was a drug addict. The shock on his face was priceless.

"Okay," I winked. "Have fun. Or whatever."

"Or whatever," he sighed. "Bye." He left me with my mound of clothes. Half of them I sent to the wash downstairs, much to my dad's disapproval and the other had to be folded. Yuck. Folding. After I did that, my room looked much better, and bigger too. I had to clear off the chips bags and gum wrappers off of my desk and swept them into my already full garbage receptacle. Oh, well. I looked around my purple walled room. I stuck a large poster next to my bed in the far corner and soon many other posters joined it. Sitting down on my cold wood floor, I looked for other miscellaneous trash in weird places and then huffed, stood up and admired my work. I mean, it wasn't the best, and I had to make my bed still, but all in all, pretty good. The smell of a foreign food wafted into the upstairs. Mom must be trying to make Russian or German food to impress our guests. By what they eat in the cafeteria, I have a feeling that both of them aren't really picky with food. I came down our steps that led directly into the living room. The only big panoramic window we had was in the main room. It was large and faced our huge and useless lawn, or what my dad calls the moor. We stopped mowing it on account of the gas bill. I took a quick look at my phone. Almost time.

"Mom!" I called across the room.

"Oui?" She answered as I came into the smoke filled room. She was bent over a large pot into which she was carefully putting in a rack of lamb. The greens in her little pan were burnt, and the smoke was intoxicating.

"The smoke alarm might come on," I warned. Soon enough, the annoying beeping came on. Dad materialised next to it and waved a towel below it to clear the smoke. Mom closed the door and the whine of the alarm stopped. "I'm going to go pick up Germany and Russia now."