LOL, Phili [Rusphil]

Chapter 12

"Welcome back, sir," Manila greeted respectfully.

Martial didn't respond but acknowledged the boy's presence as he stripped his coat, handing it to him.

"Where's Phili?" he questioned almost immediately.

"He-hey~ Martial!"

The sound of the male's playful voice already gave Martial a tick mark on his forehead. Removing his cap and raking his hair back with his fingers, he gave his older brother an annoyed stare.

"What do you want?" he sharply asked, not wanting to hold a conversation with the other currently.

"I'm hurt." Del faked a gasp as he held his hand over his chest, trying to be dramatic. "It's almost as if you never wanted to see me again, dearest brother."

"Cut to the chase," he replied, unamused and walked past him.

"Now, now," he grinned. "You two are the same, you're no fun."

Martial raised a brow at the older one's antics. He clearly wasn't in the mood for his stalling. "And?"

"It's a relief I managed to send her to vacation. About time." He shrugged his shoulders as he followed behind him, whistling a tune after.

The other abruptly stopped and Del's grin spread wider. He sharply turned to him.

With gritted teeth, he asked. "What did you say?"

~~

Phili sat down in front of the table. She didn't know why, but she stayed for breakfast instead of going back to her own room.

She stole a glance at the male country sitting down opposite to her. He held a poker-face and was quiet.

If it were any other day in the UN meeting, he would come off as indifferent, just like what others tell he was—unapproachable, domineering, and cold. She thought that as well.

"Is the taste not to your liking?"

She raised her gaze and saw his frown. It didn't sound like he was mad or annoyed, it's more like he was worried.

Was he really what people said him to be? The question was stamped on in the back of her mind, always lingering.

America, that man, she almost forgot about him. Just when she thought she was able to take her mind in real vacation; their recent conversation came haunting her back in her head. He labeled him as the legacy of a communist bastard. Often warning her to avoid him as much as possible. She frowned at the thought.

Was it, really?

Or was it because of the country's damn pride?

Witnessing his behavior the other day gave her a different impression of him. They might be wrong. Maybe it's just that they haven't interacted with him that much.

Maybe it's just people being...judgmental, just as they always are.

She knows for a fact that some people aren't what they seem to appear to be. Just take her brother Martial as an example.

Unapproachable and an asshole as people say him to be. He always had this scowl on his face, making him look like he's going to eat someone alive. But it was just the mere surface. Being with him ever since as a child, she knew there was more to it than just him being a demon spawned from hell.

But to be honest, her brother and this person in front of her are like two-peas-in-a-pod. They were alike. It's no wonder they get along...or was it the opposite? Russia was like the cold billowing winds of the artic but actually a deep calm ocean, while Martial was like a time-ticking bomb...explosive.

Before she knew it, her bowl of sorrel soup is already cleaned out, concluding their short meal. Surprisingly yet much to Phili's relief, breakfast was uneventful.

She grabbed her plate and stood up, but was astounded when the plate was whisked away from her hands. Craning her neck up, she saw Russia holding it above from reach.

Just why is he so damn tall? She can't help but look away and pursed her lips. For some people who wasn't blessed with height, it can be pretty much a mystery to what they eat. He's like coconut tree in her view.

Or maybe he eats so much coconuts? Phili can't help but giggle inwardly at her weird thoughts.

"You sit here, I'll be the one cleaning," he said and moved away to the kitchen.

Her brows met. She can't just let him do all the work; he already cooked for breakfast! And watching him makes her squirm in discomfort with nothing to do, makes her feel embarrassed.

"I can do it. You already made breakfast, this is the least I can do," she insisted as she followed him.

"No." He flatly refused. "You are a guest."

"But—!"

"No." He cut her off sharply, turning around with a pointed glare.

Phili involuntarily flinched at the sudden change of tone. A lump was suddenly caught in her throat and she stared at him with rounded eyes. Her body tensed and she swallowed as a bead of sweat rolled down her neck.

It reminded her of the American. The heavy tensed atmosphere as she waited for his words, the sharp stare of his eyes under his dim shades riddling with scrutiny, his fingertips tapping against the hard surface wood, while she looked down, staring at the floor, never meeting his eyes. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. A bold capslock of the word DISAPPOINTMENT had never been clearer. And the man already made his point.

"I'm sorry..."

"I-I'm sorry..." she mumbled in a low tone, avoiding his gaze. It flew out her mouth like an instant record played in automatic.

"Sorry won't cut it."

"No. It's okay. I'm sorry too."

She felt a hand on her head, patting and rubbing her hair.

"Please understand that it's considered as rude to let our guest do the chores." Russia bent down to her level, raising her chin. He smiled softly.

This only shows how short she was. Damn embarrassing.

At first she was confused but she forced a smile. "Yeah, I understand."

The male stepped back, giving the girl a room to breathe. He went back into doing the dishes and Phili stared at his back.

It was gentle. She felt tickling butterflies blossoming in her chest. What was that?

Holding her hand near her ever-loud heart thumping crazily, she felt like it was going to burst. Her face turned into tomatoes after realizing how close they were just a moment ago. It made her head spin as she internally screamed.

Before she knew it, she felt liquid running down her lips. Delicately touching it, her fingertips were stained by blood.

What?

She stared at it. Was she having a nosebleed again?

She hurriedly used her sleeves to block. She needs to get out of here, pronto.

"Uh, Russia, I'm heading back to my room. I need to do something real quick. Bye!" She blabbered as she hastily closed the door, slamming it in the process which caught the tall country off-guard.

With her room just right beside his, she entered quickly, fumbling through her shorts to find the keys and impatiently turning the lock. She slid down the door after and muttered, "Not another nosebleed."

~~

A/n:

*checks the calendar*

Hello, darkness, my old friend TwT

School is near.

Anyway, I see people who are silent readers turning into active, so happy!

Fudge, I just felt an earthquake again -,-.