there are so many directions i want this story to go, but for now im just going to try to shove it all into one thing. im kind of hating how its turning out, but i guess we'll see
also a small fyi, canada is america's older brother by almost a year, but they are still in the same grade
Being me is so hard.
America sighed. Not only was it hard to be him, but it was twice as hard when he had to room with someone so... cold as Russia. He thought back to a few minutes ago.
"Hey, I didn't say anything really embarrassing, did I?"
Russia lifted his head from his pillow and stared at America for a few seconds, calculating. "No," he finally said, flopping his head back down. "Nothing interesting."
America bit his fingernails as he continued down the hallway, climbing a flight of stairs. Oh man, I totally said something embarrassing.
And Russia didn't seem willing to tell America exactly what he had said last night, which made it even worse. I'm not going to be able to stop thinking about this, America realized, walking down another hallway and finally stopping in front of a door with blue and yellow paper leaves taped on it. He raised his fist to knock.
The door swung open before he had the chance. "Yeah man, I'll be back - oh, hey," Ukraine noticed America standing in front of him. "What're you doing here?"
Something about the blue and yellow country reminded America of Russia - which made sense, seeing as how they behaved as brothers. "Hey Ukraine!" America smiled, hiding his hands behind his back. "Is my bro here?"
"Uh, yeah," Ukraine opened the door a little wider. "I was just on my way out, so I'll leave you two alone I guess." He brushed past America.
"Catch you later!" America called as Ukraine hurried down the hall.
"Merica? 'S that you?" a voice called from inside the dorm room. America entered and closed the door behind him. Further inside, Canada was sitting on a ratty couch, watching hockey on a small TV screen.
"Hey bro!" America held his arms out. "It's me!"
"Merica!" Canada reached up and slapped one of his hands in a high five. "Haven't seen you for a few days! How've you been faring, eh?"
"Fine, I guess," America plopped down next to his brother. "How's rooming with flower boy?" he asked, referencing Ukraine's tendency to wearing flower crowns.
Canada gave him a toothy grin. "Eh, it's been tough, but I think Ukie is warming up to me!"
America snorted. "Ukie?"
Canada jabbed him with his elbow. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Not like you've got a nickname for your roommate too or anything."
"It's just a shortened version of his name."
"Yeah, but what is it he calls you - oh wait, that's right - Meri~" Canada mocked in a high voice. "You two must be pretty close for that level of nicknames, eh?"
America scratched his neck. "Uh, can we not talk about him right now?"
Canada looked curious. "Why not?"
Tapping his fingers together, America frowned. "We aren't really friends yet I think, and I don't think he'd appreciate me talking about him to you."
"He probably wouldn't mind," Canada decided. "Besides, there's not much to talk about other than the fact that he drinks way too much vodka. And..." he mumbled something America didn't catch before clearing his throat. "I hate to break it to you dude, but your friend is pretty boring."
"I... don't think he wants to be friends."
Canada focused back on the TV. "So what? You have loads of friends already. One more or one less doesn't matter in the end."
America was silent.
"And does having friends even matter? We all die alone Merica, it's not a big deal."
America felt the corner of his eyes prick. Damn it, not again! How come even the slightest thought of being alone was enough to make him bawl his eyes out? He hated feeling so scared about something that was ultimately inevitable. "Y-yeah, I guess you're right."
A few moments passed. One of the teams on-screen scored a goal. "So why're you here?" Canada asked. "I'm sure it wasn't just to come watch hockey."
America looked down. He wasn't sure exactly why he had come, but being in the presence of his older brother usually made him feel relaxed. Right now, though, he just felt tense. America took a moment to form a sentence in his head before speaking. "Uh, weird question dude, but... do you hate me?"
"Huh?" Canada looked startled by the question, like a deer in headlights. "What?"
"Do you hate me? Am I annoying?"
"Woah, what's with the sudden need for validation??"
America's eyes started filling up with tears, and he silently prayed that they would stay in his goddamn eyes and not spill out. "I just, um- "
Canada's voice softened. "Merica, what's wrong?"
America started playing with the hem of his shirt, feeling the need to do something with his fingers to distract himself from the words he was saying. "I'm just, uh, afraid that you- you hate me," America finally said, his voice small as a stutter slipped out. "Because- because you're s-so important to me, and - "
Canada cut him off. "America, you're my brother. I'll never hate you."
"But- but you have, I know you have, everyone's hated m-me at some point," America pushed out. "I'm not st-stupid bro, I know t-that - "
Canada wrapped America in his arms and America buried his face in Canada's fuzzy coat like he used to do when they were little, hands clenching the back of his jacket. "Now where'd you get a dumb idea like that?" Canada said softly. "You're my brother. We've had our differences, but I've never hated you, and I'm sure your friends don't either. They wouldn't be your friends otherwise."
"What- what if they're j-just trying to use me?" America asked, his voice muffled.
Canada didn't answer, instead responding with a question of his own. "What's got you asking these things? I've never seen you so insecure..."
"S-sorry," America sniffed, pulling away and wiping his eyes under his glasses. He felt a small surge of pride at the fact that the tears hadn't spilled.
Canada took his shoulders. "No, no, don't apologize, don't apologize for feeling things. I'm just worried about you."
America shook his head rapidly, shaking the sadness away. "I'm fine dude, I just needed to vent. Sorry, that was weird." Crying in front of other people is so weird. I am never doing this again.
They watched the hockey game for a few minutes.
"So this all started because Russia wouldn't be your friend?" Canada finally said, wearing a shit-eating grin that America himself had worn all too many times. "He must be important to you, eh?"
America half heartedly hit Canada. "That's not all of it, you tree-licker. There's other stuff too."
"So all you have to do is make friends with him, and then you'll be happy," Canada summarized, glancing at the TV. America looked too. Both teams had scored points.
That's a really simple way of putting it, but sure. "Well, I kinda just had a tiny fight with him?" America said, his voice higher at the end. "Except it was more just him insulting me."
"A fight, eh? About what?"
America hummed. "I think I did something weird last night while drunk, but he won't tell me. Remember Japan's party?"
"Nah, didn't go," Canada leaned back on the couch. "That's not my scene, eh."
Of course. America's phone buzzed with a text, and he glanced at it. "Oh shit!"
"What?"
America shoved his phone back in his pocket, standing up. "I promised Czech we would hang out today, and I totally forgot. I need to go; thanks for talking with me!"
Canada reached up and slapped America on the back, making the other cough. "Of course! Come to me any time bro, but next time let's play hockey instead of cry, eh?"
America laughed a little. "Sure."
eh
04/03/19