Countryhumans Oneshots [DISCONTINUED]

My, My! DEMO (💙💛RUSCAN💛💙)

hey guys

soooo ive been working on a thing
that may it may not come out in a few months
annd

i wanted to show you guys a sneak peek

because i love you 😍

anyways this is a combo of the prologue and 1st chapter
these are not in their final stage and i plan to do more editing

point out typos and bad grammar please 🙏

dont be a 3rd reich about it though

k enjoye

___

Canada didn't have money.
That was it, that was all.

He never did. Too many siblings, too little money. He hated how his life revolved around those pieces of paper that never seemed to make their way around to him.

It was unfair. He hated it.
It was practically a breeding ground for resentment.

It seeped deep into his head, working into the cracks and crevices of his brain. Twisting around the organ like ugly tendrils, black blood dripped into every corner it could reach. For the first time in his short life, he felt hatred. Pure, unfiltered, hatred.

Maybe he should calm down. Maybe he should sit down, take a breather, and reconsider what he was about to do.

...

Oh well.

Canada sat in the principals office, his crying mother to his left and the person he had beaten to his right.
The $150 he had gotten as a payment for the task sat comfortably in his pocket, unknown by anyone else. They didn't need to.
He didn't want their pity, nor did he need their judgement.

Canada tried to listen when they spoke to him, he really did.
But alas, their voices faded into a nice background music to his inner thoughts.

He needed to do this. They wouldn't understand, but that was okay. They didn't need to know his motives, he doubted they'd care.

Really, Canada kindof wanted someone to care. Not pity him, treat him like he was made of glass, nor the absolute opposite.

Just.. care.

Nobody did.
That was okay, Canada supposed.
_

He was only 16 when he got his first job. No, not an average minimum wage customer service one. A bit more.. Risky.

Canada liked risk. It made him feel alive, entertained, anything but the black void of emptiness that consumed most of his day. Canada didn't mean to sound painfully edgy, but it was accurate. Very accurate on how he felt, day to day.

He loved it. The job, he meant.
He was made for it, or so his contractors told him.

Especially France. She was nice, sort of like another mother to him, except she knew what he was doing.
She was shocked to see that the assassinator recommended to her was just 16.

Their relationship snowballed from there.
He appreciated her.

Before France, Canada tried to not attach himself to anybody. It wasn't worth the inevitable heartbreak of them leaving, finding something better, less damaged.

But she stayed. No matter his flaws, no matter his seeming apathy to how he was living, and even when he could do nothing but let out choked cries into her chest and quietly sob out his emotions. She would just.. be there. It was nice.

France aside, Canada supposed that the logic was there for the others, though. Why stick with an old, used car when you could get a new one for the price of free?