ARGUMENTS
[Russia third person]
Russia felt like shit.
Why wouldn't he? He's already lost track of time.
America and Germany were arguing, and Russia felt even worse.
He was remembering shitty memories with his father.
Of course he was.
He couldn't last two FUCKING SECONDS without him being traumatized.
He had remembered something; not in his dream — that happened when his dad had died — and he remembered it crystal clear, like a shimmering memory wrapped in gold.
[FLASHBACK]
"Слушай, Россия. Ты не хочешь умирать со мной, (Listen, Russia. You don't want to die with me,)" the man crouched down, touching the boy's face with fictitious gentleness.
"Если бы ты не ушел один, ты был бы в ловушке в окружении огня прямо сейчас. Я рад, что ты это сделал.(If you hadn't gone off on your own, you'd be trapped surrounded by fire with me right now. I'm glad you did.)"
"Хотел бы я быть! (I wish I was!)" The little boy cried. "Ты единственный человек, которого я оставил! (You're the only person I have left!)"
"Нет, Россия. Это не так. У тебя есть братья и сестры. (No you don't, Russia. You have your brothers and sisters .)" He sighed.
The man just didn't understand.
The boy wanted to be with his father! He didn't care if the ground was groaning or sparkling or burnt, or if the crumbling, singed, cracking buildings were buckling and collapsing all around them. He didn't care now, not then! He would rather die with his father, than live in this hellish world!
The boy started crying. He couldn't help it. Tears poured down his face like a stream, and he wiped his dirty face with his sleeve again. He couldn't believe his father was talking like that. His father was indestructible! He couldn't die!
"Не плачь, мальчик. Все будет хорошо (don't cry, Russia. It'll be okay)." The man stood up straight.
"..."
[END OF FLASHBACK]
Russia sighed.
He was an adult, he's supposed to be responsible.
Russia stood up on his shaky legs and stepped over to Germany and America, where they were bickering.
"....Why did you attack him?! We could've made a peaceful conversation if you hadn't done that!" Germany stomped his foot.
"He wasn't going to listen anyways! He's selfish and doesn't listen to reason." America retorted.
"You said 'listen' twice." Germany snorted.
"I — It just proves how stupid he is!" America stuttered, embarrassed.
"Yes, but we could've had a better relationship with him! You didn't need to do that." Germany rolled his eyes.
"Relationship? What relationship? He broke any chance of having a good relationship when he invaded my land and betrayed me." America spat.
Germany sighed, "I get that, but you're acting impulsive."
"I so want to punch you right now." America growled.
Germany held America's gaze steadily, although his face changed in a more pissed expression.
"Guys, stop. You guys arguing sounds like toddlers." Russia snapped, stepping between them.
"Russia —" Germany started.
"Not right now. You two are friends. You shouldn't be arguing about something so stupid," Russia said. "Make it up, or leave eachother alone."
They both walked away from each other.
"Damn." He whispered, resisting the urge to laugh.
.......
Russia rubbed his eyes. He had fallen asleep. He jerked his head up and spotted Germany standing over him.
"Listen, Russia," Germany swallowed hard. "I — I'm really sorry for hurting you — I didn't realize — I'm not good with words, and I — I'm sorry I didn't realize you were uh, hurt. I —" Tears enveloped in Germany's eyes as he hugged his best friend back, as Russia hugged him tightly.
"Oh, and hey, Germany. You are a terrible liar." Russia laughed.
"Huh?! What?" Germany looked embarrassed.
"When you said 'no' to Poland bothering you," Russia said. "Clearly something was bothering you."
"I — I —" Germany stuttered, "He isn't bothering me, I just feel like I'm bothering him. I just feel like I'm burdening him when I talk about my problems, and that he has to do something to make me feel like I'm a better person. I feel like I have to work, because otherwise my future is destined to be horrible."
"Germany." Russia turned to him, sitting flat on his palms.
Germany turned to look at him, rubbing his eyes, although one tear escaped, and he cursed under his breath.
"Just because your family did bad things, doesn't mean you have to. You're a wonderful person. Working isn't your purpose, and it doesn't define you. Don't ruin yourself this way, you're kind, and care a lot. Taking a break is okay. It won't make you fall behind, or kill you to stop for a bit."
"B — but —" Germany swallowed, tears forming in his eyes again. "T — to everyone around me it is! T— they give me these looks — like they hate me when I stop! I — I do want to stop! But I can't! They'll h—hurt me, won't they? I mean, w—why wouldn't they?"
"Germany, you're so scared about what everyone thinks because you try so hard to be worth something, or stay loved, because you believe if you don't, you'll be all alone," Russia said softly, wiping a loose tear away from Germany's face. "And when you stop, you hurt yourself. That isn't fair to your body, and you know you shouldn't, but then you think about your family, because they wanted to define you to be a little villain, but you defied them. You're an amazing friend, and I will never ever leave you."
That was the breaking point for Germany. He collapsed into Russia, shaking and sobbing. His glasses were pressing into Russia's chest, but at this point he didn't care. His friend was being vulnerable, which was rare. He wanted to have Germany let a little loose, he just needed to find a way up his own path first. He rested a hand on Germany's back, trying to stop Germany from shaking so much. Germany gasped, tears coming uncontrollably, grabbing onto Russia's arm as his skinny, frail body started shaking a bit more.
"I— I'm sorry." Germany whispered.
"Don't be, you're doing okay." Russia whispered back. He'd always thought it was funny that Germany was a little older than him, and Russia felt like Germany was his little brother sometimes.
"A — am I hurting you? Germany sat up, still shaking, adjusting his glasses a bit over his puffy eyes.
"Only a tiny bit, 'cause of the frame of your glasses. It's okay, though!" Russia replied.
"I'm so sorry— I didn't mean to." Germany apologized.
"Hush. It's okay." Russia smiled.
[AMERICA POV]
America groaned, opening his eyes.
Oh, just a dream! Of course it was. America brooded.
He had dreamed his brother had comforted him, but y'know, "reality is often disappointing."
He stood up, bored to death, turning to look for his friends.
There they are, He sighed with relief, spotting them. Jesus Christ, do they switch comforting every day? Actually, wait, screw that. I don't know how long it's been. Ughhh, who's doing this, and what's happening?! I swear to God, I'm getting pissed off. Whenever I find out, I'm going to beat their ass. He pouted. I. AM. SO. BORED.
"Hello, Ame~" Confederate came up to him, clasping his hands behind his back in a singsong voice.
Oh no, him again. America glared at him.
"Aww, you look so sad," Confederate teased, fake pouting. "Cheer up, America!" He tried to grab America's wrist, but he slapped his hand away.
"Stop it, Confederate," America snapped. "You aren't funny, and you're making me uncomfortable."
"Oh, boo-hoo, now it's my fault you're grumpy?" He grinned.
"Shut up. You act like an immature child." America narrowed his eyes.
"Mhm, mhm. You were the one who made up the nickname 'Confetti'." He laughed.
"Why are you still here?!" America shouted, tears pricking his eyes.
"Because I like tormenting you. I like watching you suffer, because you deserve it!" Confederate barked a laugh, grinning like a madman.
"Wh — how do I deserve any of the shit you make me put up with?" America growled. "Just leave me ALONE FOR ONCE!"
"What, you gonna cry?" Confederate was smiling so much it looked like it'd tear his face in half.
America swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to speak, but nothing came out.
"Oh, just admit I'm right for once!" He grabbed America's chin.
"Ugh." America groaned, trying to swipe his hand away.
"When do you think about others? How long are you going to let people take care of you? You say that you care, but you're a liar. You've never done anything for anyone else," He stared at America. "You're useless. Less than useless."
"You're sick."
"I — that isn't true! I do stuff for my family every day!" America retorted.
"People like you don't deserve to live," The Confederate snarked. "Your friends are wrong about you. The person they love isn't you at all."
"What? I care about them! I'm a good person!" America's pupils shrank.
"You let them believe in a lie to protect yourself."
"I don't even know what I did!" America shouted.
"You're nothing but a liar.. And when they see the truth, they'll hate you as much as you hate yourself." He spat.
"How could you say that?!" America cried.
"If they know the truth, you'll never be able to regain their trust. No matter what you do, it'll be hopeless," Confederate smiled. "All you'll do is make things worse. It would be better to just die."
"Stop! Actually stop, please!" America plugged his ears, tears rolling down his face.
"It would be better if you'd just die." Confederate spat, shoving America to the ground.
....Is that really true? America thought.
"You actually liked him, helped him, welcomed him. Yet you killed him. He relatively cared about you. You loved him and you killed him," He continued. "Yet you've repressed the memory because you hate it, and you can't own up to the fact that you shattered their world. You can't forgive yourself, because you're scared."
"Who?" America shouted.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Well. I was not expecting that. Why the hell would he say that now? Is he going to murder me somehow?
I mean, that isn't unnecessarily surprising, I guess. He hates me.
But, why though? Why would he bother tormenting me if he wants to leave me alone? Who did I kill? What the hell did I do? This day is too confusing. Ugh.
America rubbed his neck. It hurt.
"Boo."
America jerked away from the hand grabbing his wrist.
"Calm down! It's just me." Russia put his hands up.
"Jeez! Don't do that again." America rolled his eyes.
"Okay, okay," Russia lowered his hands down. "The fight you had with the idiot looked pretty serious, and you have a bruise on your neck, are you okay?"
So that's why his neck hurt.
"No, he kept blabbering about stuff about me killing someone important. Sounds like it was a long time ago, though." America replied.
Something changed in Russia's expression, like a forbidden thought, but it was only for a second. He went back to looking aloof. "Sounds confusing. The fuck was he doing in the first place?"
"Probably trying to annoy me. He acts like he's seven." America replied, looking pissed.
"Sure. Just get your mind off of it, okay?" Russia said softly.
"Okay."
GUYS HELP I CANT STOP WRITING EMO STUFF AAAAAÆ
Btw i tried to make Germany's struggles more realistic, instead of him wanting to die from drinking like 30 cups of coffee lmao
anygays, thank you guys for the compliments! It makes me happy
HOHOHOHOHOHO
Ciao~