France closed the door as Russia left, probably to go to his other neighbor. France was confused. Crying? Who was crying? France went up to the couch in the middle of her shared apartment with her husband Britain and sat down on it.
She looked at Britain, who was sitting in a chair near the window reading an old book. "Mon Cher (My dear), do you know who is in room 1776?"
Britain looked up from his book, thought about it for a little bit, and then responded, "I believe it's America in that room. Why do you ask, darling?"
France started to get worried, why was Amérique (America) crying? It must have been him who Russia heard. France really was justified in her worry, too. Earlier, she had noticed America falling asleep at the meeting- he's never done that before- and told Britain about her worries after the meeting; but, her husband had shrugged it off as 'normal America.' France started talking about her worries to Britain again.
"Mon Cher? You heard what Russia was asking about, Oui (Yes)?"
"Of course I did."
"Do you think Amérique was the one crying?"
Britain frowned at that. "You think so? I don't think he's the type to cry."
"Maybe it's a really serious problem! My poor bébé (baby)!" France was about to go run to America's room when Britain grabbed her hand. France turned around at the sudden contact.
"I'm sure America is fine, darling. I know my son is a strong young man, just like me," Britain smiled.
France raised her eyebrow at that, "You mean just like what you used to be, mon cher?"
Britain chuckled at that, "I'm not old, France."
"You sure sound old to me."
They continued smiling and teasing each other for a while until France had mostly calmed down. They eventually sat down on the couch and France was tempted to stay there with her amour (love), but her motherly instincts were too strong. Even though America wasn't her real son, she would forever see him as her bébé and needed to make sure he was ok. Britain agreed to her decision (even though he didn't think it was that serious) so that her mind would be at peace. He even decided to make dinner for both of them while France checked on America.
France left their room and headed towards America's room in a hurry. She had already waited long enough. She rang America's doorbell and he answered, saying, "Russia I don't want to tal-" He paused and it finally processed in his brain that his mom was outside his door, not Russia. "Mom? What are you doing here?"
"Mon bébé! Je suis inquiet pour toi Depuis Que la Russie est arrivée chez nous plus tôt dans la journée! Est ce que ça va? As-tu Besoin d'aide? (My baby! I've been worried about you ever since Russia came to our door earlier today! Are you okay? Do you need help?)"
America blinked for a few seconds and then said, "Mom, I'm completely fine. What about Russia coming to your door?"
France answered, "He came to our door earlier today asking if your père (father) or I were crying."
France could've sworn she heard America lightly curse at that.
"Mon fils, may I come in?"
"Why?"
France narrowed her eyes at that. Why would Amérique ask that? It's like he doesn't want her inside- What is going on with her son? Is there something he's hiding from her inside of his apartment? "I want to make sure you're ok."
"I'm fine, mom."
"Amérique, please let me in." France replied, a serious tone creeping in on her voice.
America grew silent and, after a moment's hesitation, opened the door. France went inside and noticed a couple of things. One, the vase in the middle of the coffee table was gone. Two, an iris was on the counter, wilting. After a little bit, France realized that was the iris she had given to her son long ago! Or, it was a very similar iris to the original. But... why would Amérique let it wilt? He would never let that flower wilt, he promised to France that he would take care of it...
France heard America plop down on the couch and turned to see him facing the window. Using her little window of time, France went up to the iris and felt it. It really was wilting. France suddenly knew, with dread in her heart, that something very wrong was happening with America; and, her fils wasn't even telling her what was happening. France then had an idea. She knew who could help her figure out what was going on with her fils.
For the next ten minutes or so, France talked about random things with America until it was a reasonable time for her to leave, making sure her son didn't catch onto what she figured out. She had a feeling that if she told her son what she had figured out, he would only isolate himself further. She noticed with intense worry that he was faking his smiles, what is he hiding? France eventually said her goodbyes and left, immediately heading for room 1774.
No matter what it takes, she will help her son.
---x---
Russia heard his doorbell ring and sighed. He was tired. He didn't want to answer it. "Ukraine! Make yourself useful and answer that!"
Russia heard Ukraine sigh and heard the sound of the door opening. There was light talking Russia wasn't focusing in on until Ukraine yelled out, "Russia, you приклад (butt), someone wants to talk to you!"
"Что почему? (What, why?)"
"Just get up here and ask her yourself!"
Russia sighed, got up, and walked to the door. Russia pushed his brother away and paused when he saw France. Of all the countries in the world that could visit him, Russia didn't expect it to be her.
"Russia, I need to talk to you."
---x---
"Soooo, you want me to help you find out what's going on with America?" France had explained everything to Russia, though Russia had already suspected the same things she's suspecting. They both knew something incredibly is wrong with America and they only confirmed and added onto the other's suspicions.
France nodded, "Yes, I know it's a lot to ask of you but-"
"Sure, I'll help."
France looked up at Russia, surprised, "Really?!"
"Yep."
France smiled at that and almost hugged Russia, but decided better of it and shook Russia's hand ecstatically, "Thank you so much, Russia. I can't describe to you how much this means to me."
Russia nodded, but he had to ask something, "So, why am I your first option?"
France's face fell a little bit at that, "You know how America is. You've fought him for how long? A long time. He's stubborn, reckless, and maybe a little bit too soft on the inside. He doesn't... act like this. As they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. If anyone truly knew how America acted, it'd be you. Plus, you were the one who heard him crying. You must've realized it then, right?"
She sighed, looked at the ground, and paused for a few seconds before continuing with what she was saying, "Plus, the others only see a perfect America that doesn't have big, personal problems. They see a superpower before they see just another person. Even my husband sometimes writes off his problems as something minor and unimportant."
"Why are you so different then?" Russia questioned, curious.
"He's my fils. I love him so much. I would notice something like this in a heartbeat. Plus, Amérique doesn't cry over small things... Whatever it is, it's something serious." She looked up at Russia, and he could see small tears forming in her eyes, "I don't want to do nothing while he's probably getting hurt. I don't want to stand there and watch while he's being hurt enough for him to cry...
"All I want is for him to be alright, and I believe you can help me figure out how we can help him."
Russia was silent at that. After what she said set in, Russia smiled.
"Well then, let's find out what the American is hiding."
-----
France is best mom. I think I made her too caring but that's ok, we all need caring moms.
Russia and France are the dream team (not in a shipping way pls no). They're like Scooby-Doo, except only two members.
Also, the next chapter may take a little longer cause I'm accidentally making it 10x longer than what it needs to be oops-
Tschüss!
-Selva