I have an idea for an Apocalypse AU based off The Long Dark. I think I'll start writing about it today, storming ideas, and bleh.
Until then, heeeeeere's jOHNNY!-
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🇷🇺 Russia 🇷🇺
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It was around 5:00 pm, a few days after the incident with North and China, and I was just walking towards the park. I carried my backpack with me just because it was convenient, although I didn't really need it for anything. The park was mostly empty with a few people walking here and there, but they didn't stick around long and usually just were going down the paths. I sat in my normal spot underneath the tree, the same place I'd sat during the giant study session from a few days ago, and I held my notebook, turning to the next blank page and tapping my pencil on the page. The music in my ears was relatively depressing, so I just drew what I felt, mixed with what I was thinking about. In a way, I believe it was vent art.
Before I even knew what I was doing, my hand was already moving, pencil leaving sketched lines all over the page, shading here and there, erasing a little, doing this and that, and soon enough, I had drawn my father. Crumbling away on the page just like he'd done when I was little.
I looked at the drawing for a minute, just replaying the moment over and over in my head. My heart was still heavy. I remember how he held his arms open, almost desperately, to hug me. And I just couldn't reach him before he was gone. I couldn't even hug him one last time before he crumbled away right in front of me. I couldn't even tell him I loved him back, I couldn't say goodbye...
I felt tears pricking at my eyes quickly before they ran down my cheeks. I didn't even have time to wipe them away before they did. I tore my eyes from the page and looked around, making sure nobody was there to see that, then I wiped them away.
Whatever.
I continued drawing while singing quietly to myself. It was moments like this I appreciated, being alone, being able to draw, listen to music, and sing. By myself, alone, without being annoyed by anyone else. Just myself and my thoughts...
I soon enough finished the second drawing, even though it was mostly a sketch and didn't even have a background or any details.
I studied the drawing as the current song ended, and began changing. I thought about what to draw next, but blinked in realization as I heard the song start. I knew this song by heart, and I loved it, although it wasn't russian music, it was still good and I appreciated it.
(This song is really depressing so I suggest not reading the lyrics if you get upset by talk of death or just emotional elements in general...)
Turn away
If you could get me a drink of water
'Cause my lips are chapped and faded
Call my aunt Marie
Help her gather all my things
And bury me in all my favorite colors
My sisters and my brothers, still
I will not kiss you
Because the hardest part of this...
Is leaving you.
I continued to sing the song quietly to myself, tapping the pencil on my notebook, unsure of what to draw. Soon enough I just leaned my head back with my eyes closed and sat there, admiring the song.
But I still held in my tears.
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🇺🇸 America 🇺🇸
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I just stood there in amazement, listening to his voice. I knew that he didn't realize I was standing there, and although I knew he might be mad for me just listening, I was just in love with his singing. I was going to try and get his attention, talk to him, before I saw the earbuds, and then once I heard him sing I kind of just forgot. So there I stood, enjoying it, as well as admiring his drawings. Half way through the song I watched his face fall kind of, his eyes looking a bit watery as if he was about to cry, but he just held his breath and sat there. With that he also stopped singing. I watched as he wiped what I believed were tears from his eyes, and as he did, he turned his head towards me. When he first saw me he didn't even react, but after the realization came to him, he tended up and just stared at me with his eyes widened. He pulled his earbuds out and just sat there, frozen.
"How long have you been standing there?" He asked me, still rooted to his spot.
"Uh... Maybe like 2 or 3 minutes...?" I awkwardly replied. He pursed his lips and just turned his head away from me, hiding his face. I blushed once I realized I'd embarrassed him. I let out a nervous laugh.
"I'm sorry, I was gonna try and get your attention but I just, Uh... your singing... it's um, you have a great voice. And your art is really good too... Sorry." I kept trying to get my words out, but my brain wouldn't function properly. I internally facepalmed and just stood there, waiting for him to say something.
"..." He was silent. I opened my mouth to apologize again but he turned to me, his eyebrows furrowed and a light blush on his face, not making eye contact with me.
"Spaciba..." he murmured out quietly, eyes turned to the ground as he turned his head back to his notebook. I had no idea what he said, but I just awkwardly took another step forward.
"Can, uh... can I sit here?" I asked, gesturing next to him. He just nodded, still tense. I sat down next to him cross-legged and just looked down at my hands.
"Hey, I'm sorry again. I didn't mean to freak you out, I just..." I twirled my hand around, looking for the right words to say.
"... it's fine." He said again, quietly. I looked over at him. He just continued sketching, and wouldn't make eye contact with me. I noticed his eyes were kind of red, as if he'd been crying before, and he had bags under his eyes. I felt a bit of concern building up in my stomach. Was he not sleeping well? I also noticed the cut and bruise on his lip where China had punched him.
And I won't lie, I think it was kind of hot...
"Russia, look at me." I said. I saw him tense up a little again as he turned his head to me. I studied his face, taking in the wound in his lip, and I saw the bags under both his eyes as well as the redness. He also looked a little pale, but maybe it was my imagination. He just blinked at me, slowly, as I pursed my lips. I just stared at him, thinking what to say, and he averted his eyes, looking down. It was the first time I've seen him uncomfortable like this.
(I'm laughing so hard at that drawing it looks so horrible lmao)
"Okay, not to be an asshole or anything, but Russia, you look like shit." I said bluntly, crossing my arms. He didn't even act offended, he just looked up at America with his expression blank, the corners of his lips almost curling up like a smile.
"Heh, thanks. I know."
"No, I mean like... have you been crying?"
His eyes flickered for a second but his expression remained blank. He raised one eyebrow. "Nyet."
"When was the last time you slept?" I asked, turning entirely to face him. His face fell a little bit and he just blinked at me. He paused for a minute to think, I assumed, and then he shrugged. "I don't know... 2, 3 days ago?..."
"Russia, what the fuck?" I responded in a serious tone. Why the hell would he not be taking care of himself?
"Why haven't you been sleeping? That's not good for you." He just shrugged in response, closing his eyes. He just looked so exhausted, I don't even know how he was awake.
"I just couldn't." He said after a second. I raised my eye brow and looked at him. He still wouldn't hold eye contact with me, he just looked down at the grass and fidgeted with the pencil in his grip.
"Russia, are you okay?" I asked, looking at him sympathetically. He looked up at me for a moment, his gaze flickering between both of my eyes.
"I'm fine." He said, his face blank still. His tone was distant, like he was either deep in his thoughts, or very tired. Maybe both.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" I asked, hoping to get some insight into the problem. He looked as though he was going to say something, but he just shrugged and stayed silent. I looked down at his lip again, analyzing the wound. I almost had forgotten about it. Without thinking, I reached up and grabbed his face in my hand, holding his chin with my index finger and thumb. He stared at me with wide eyes and just sat there, stiff as a board.
"What the hell..." he said slowly, his tone confused. His hand had awkwardly gripped my wrist as he stared at me, in either surprise or panic, but I didn't really care.
"Did you even take care of this wound?" I asked, brushing my thumb over his lip, feeling the skin swollen underneath. He visibly, and audibly, winced, gritting his teeth. That answered my question. I noticed he had a slight blush on his face as well. He held his grip on my wrist, although I knew he wasn't holding me tight because of what he'd done to North, and he also hadn't tried to push my arm away. I realized why he'd been blushing, me holding his face and touching his lip, and I blushed a little bit and let go.
"Sorry." I said. He just shrugged a little and stayed quiet.
"Okay, firstly... you need to treat that wound. And if you don't, I will. And secondly, you need to sleep. And since you said you couldn't sleep, I want to help you."
He stared at me in confusion, shaking his head a little. "Why do you even care?"
"Because I'm your friend, and you're important just like everyone else." I said stubbornly. After I said friend, his face was thoughtful for a second.
"You think we're friends." He said quietly, I'm assuming to himself, more of a statement than a question. His face went back to being blank again. "I don't know you very well America. We aren't anything more than... acquaintances." He said after a moment.
I just shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat. Now let's go."
He gave me a confused look. "Go where?..."
I grabbed his wrist and started pulling him along after he grabbed his backpack. "My house, of course."
"Do you actually want to bring me to your house? Doesn't your father hate my family? And do you really want to hear all the bullshit everyone at school is going to say?" He followed me, giving me reasons why he shouldn't go over. I just gave him a dead-ass look.
"I don't care what those people are going to say. Now stop trying to avoid the inevitable and come on."
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I have no idea what happened in this chapter. I had some ideas. I mashed them together, and I ran with it. Oh well. Also that drawing of russia is trash lmao.
This chapter was a long boi, almost 2000 words.
Yeet. ✊🏻👊🏻