Intoxicated // Countryhumans RusAme

Chapter 4 - Runnin'

"Philippines—"  he said in shock, almost cracking up in laughter, "Who would've thought that the first nation to find me would be you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I didn't know they let children do this job."

"I'm not a fucking child," Philippines snarked back, "—and I'm here to get my best friend back."

"This is true freedom for me, can't you understand? I don't need to go back to the way I was before."

"Oh, I would understand. In fact, I do understand you America. After all, you're the last person I had to gain my independence from," he said in a tone that even had America surprised. "—but I had to learn the hard way that once you decide to become a country, you have to leave all of your personal wants and needs behind. You're serving your own people from then on, and they need you."

"I've always truly admired your words, and for a good reason it seems..." America said, relaxing his gaze into a somber one. "So, please, do forgive me for this—" Philippines' eyes watched in horror as America aimed at his left leg and pulled the trigger from his pistol. An instant scream followed the sudden surge of pain that overwhelmed the Eastern country.

"Son of a—" Philippines dropped to his knees and cursed. Then he watched as America mercilessly killed the two people who were supposedly on his side, causing the Filipino country to fall to the ground.

He was left there, trembling, and hugging his left leg in unimaginable pain. "H-How could you do that?" His voice had a mix of fear and anger all at once. This wasn't the fun and nice country he used to know and love, this version of America resembled closer to a psychopath.

"If you're such a righteous country now, you should know why I had to do it." Normal humans weren't allowed to know of the countries' identity, but Philippines still didn't think it was justified to outright murder them. America waved goodbye before running off to the opposite direction, and cheered sarcastically, "Bye Philippines!"

"Get back here—" Philippines tried following him, but crashed onto the ground on his first attempt; he was immobilized. "Damn it."

America jumped a few buildings to get to the top, only to be greeted by one more person. They had their backs turned to him and quietly watched the colorful city lights blend in with each other in the night.

"Another one of you?" America mumbled in annoyance. He scoffed, "—should've figured." The person paid no attention to him and dropped his shoulders in exhaustion. "You dudes just don't give up, do you?"

The person pulled down his hood and turned around, sighing, "We just want to help you America, stop running away."

"I don't need any of your damn help—" he paused to examine the all too familiar ushanka the country was wearing. This was Russia, the last person America was preparing to encounter tonight. America stepped back, reluctantly. In reality, for some odd reason, he felt no hate for Russia even in this condition. America bit his bottom lip, a tad bit worried that Russia would discover his true feelings for him.

"Stop being so stupid and let us get you back to normal before this gets out of hand. You don't know what that poison could do to you," Russia said sternly. America frowned, irritated that Russia sounded more like a parent who was disciplining a child.

"It could kill me for all I care," America responded, anger laced in his voice, "You wouldn't understand. I just want freedom from everything. This intoxication, as terrible as it might be, let's me forget the pain of love—"

"You can't run away from your problems forever," Russia argued back.

"Heh," America mused. Those words were too surreal, even America understood that. The truth of it made him recklessly angrier. He didn't want to hear the truth, he didn't want to be hurt, not again... His newly founded state of mind blocked any previous scars from appearing again, and it was that ecstatic feeling that made him become obsessed over this drunken feeling. The anger took over his train of thought. "How could you ever understand? I bet you've never even loved anyone other than that yourself—"

America's hand was tightly gripped, and if it wasn't for the sudden surge of a strong, arousing, sensation in his head, he would've retaliated.

He could feel his knees weakening, and pulled back harshly. He couldn't understand what was going on, but it was as if his entire mental and physical state burned when Russia was near him. (Oh, the irony) He wanted more of that feeling and was even ashamed of it.

"Y-You don't know anything about me America." Russia's stuttering voice made America jump back into reality and realize what he just said. He wondered in silence why Russia looked so hurt over something he said, almost sure that Russia had no further feelings for him anyway.

"Well you don't know anything about me either so let's keep it that way."

"Why are you so hateful towards me anyway?" Russia asked.

America shrugged. "Don't take it personally, Russ. It'll take me some time to adjust," he replied, lowering his voice at the end of his sentence. Russia looked confused at first and then frowned in annoyance.

"I'm not like my father, you know?"

"I didn't say that you were. I just want to be left alone, is that too much to ask?"

Russia rolled his eyed, not caring much. "Fine. Have it your way. But I'll still continue searching for you." He only really agreed to this search in the first place to assure America's safety. Now that he has, he really has no point in bringing him back.

"I don't doubt it," America replied with a smile plastered on his face. This was much more exciting now that Russia was breaking the rules as well. He initiated his leave and waved goodbye.

Russia warned, "Just a heads up, you should probably go underground. Philippines put up guards all around this block." America slowly turned around to face Russia again and smirked in overconfidence.

"Who do you take me for anyway?" He asked him, almost offended, "You think I can't handle a couple of normies?"

"I think it'd be a stupid move to recklessly kill everyone."

"Touché."

...

"I can't believe he got away! We were so close," Phillippines complained while bandaging the bloody mess he had to fix himself with a ten dollar first aid kit. The whole plan seemed to go down to hell, even though it was initially thought out carefully. Never did he expect for America to work with other people though, that's what really messed it all up.

Russia leaned on his arm, pondering on what happened with his encounter with America. "Yeah," he muttered carelessly.

"I fucking swear, he's going to pay for this, friend or not I don't care—"

"You should probably go to the hospital," Russia noted the complete mess Phillippines made in the bathroom.

"Hospital?" Philippines repeated him. "Did you forget what country we're in? I'm not about to leave my entire life savings here."

Russia thought about it and sighed hopelessly. "Good point."

"Also, did you know there are fourteen other countries out looking for him and he's totally aware of it?"

"Well, it would make sense. America may be stuck within his own borders but he could still tell when one of us enters his country." Philippines successfully stopped the bleeding after he got the bullet out and noticed that Russia was putting his shoes on as if he was about to go somewhere.

"Are you leaving?" Philippines asked.

Russia tried to make an excuse for his leave that wouldn't sound too suspicious. "America couldn't have gone far on his feet. I'm going to go out and search for him."

"Oh, I'll come with you—"

"Not in your condition, you won't. You should stay here and heal up Phil. I'll be back soon," Russia reassured and left.