Russia checked to make sure he had brought all of the stuff he would need one last time. Today was the day, after all. The day Russia would go back to New York and hopefully see Ame. He was excited and terrified and excited and... you get the point. Russia was excited to see America, even though he felt like a child admitting that to himself. Russia has verified that he likes America a lot, but for the past few weeks, he's also been consistently and stubbornly ignoring his own feelings for the smaller country. It's confusing and Russia should really stop because it's obvious he's crushing really hard, but I mean whatever floats his Slavic boat. Russia was also terrified, though. That lingering thought that something was up with America kept on popping in Russia's totally gay mind. Honestly, Russia was terrified that America might've changed. Or that America didn't think they were friends anymore. Or that America-
Ok, Russia needs to stop being stubborn and worrying himself to death.
...
At first, this whole love thing seemed nice. Russia had heard stories of it and it truly seemed like a dream come true. But, Russia had become scared of this new and unfamiliar emotion quickly after he realized it was there in the first place.
Love terrified him.
And Russia wanted to pull his heart back into its loveless corner. Though Russia would never admit this to anyone, he fears that if he invests his heart into America- someone he couldn't even have a decent conversation with a month ago- his heart will end up broken. He's scared because of how quickly he fell in love in the first place- how his heart just jumped straight into it. Russia wasn't an improvisational, careless person by any means. He never did anything without a plan if he had time to make one. He's scared that he might get hurt or- even worse- that America might get hurt because of Russia's stupid feelings. That's the last thing Russia wanted.
Russia's terrified that he could love someone so much in the first place. He didn't know he could. He knew deep down inside that if America needed help, he would drop everything he was doing to be there. To help him out, to comfort him. It was so gay and so very scary.
So, Russia created a plan recently. He would box up his feelings in the safest, most secure location in his heart so that Russia wouldn't hurt himself or America by having them. Russia had already tried getting rid of them, and quickly realized that his heart is its own boss- it won't listen to Russia no matter how much he begs. So, this was the next best thing: hide them. Russia loved America, but America could never, ever know. He wouldn't be able to take rejection. Russia would love America from afar. That was his only solution. He'll friendzone himself and be the best damn friend that stubborn dork has ever had.
There'll be no room for a relationship in Russia's grand plan, but that's okay. Russia can wait. As long as it kept his heart intact, as long as it limited these stupid, scary, amazing emotions from ever being shown, and as long as Russia could still see America smile, Russia could wait for a million years and a million more.
He would be okay; and maybe one day in the distant future when Russia's finally figured out all these confusing emotions and become a braver country, he could finally go up to America and say the words, "I love you."
...
Until then, Russia's scared.
Until then, Russia will wait, his heart forever pounding in his chest and reminding him of what it's like to love.
--x--
Russia smiled as his sister Belarus clambered onto Russia's plane. When she saw her brother, she brightened and immediately ran to hug him. "I haven't seen you in forever, you tree!" She exclaimed, smiling widely.
"Nice to see you again, Bela," Russia smiled down at his sister, gesturing for her to sit down on one of the private planes many seats, "Come on, let's talk while sitting down so the plane can actually move, yes?"
Bela laughed, sitting down, "Sounds good," After a few minutes of small talk she looked at a screen telling them where they were and frowned, "Wait, why are we going in the wrong direction?"
Russia gave Bela a confused look and looked at the screen himself. No, they were going in the right direction, "I don't know what you're talking about, Bela. We're going in the right direction."
"But this can't be right! Why aren't we heading towards Kyiv to pick Ukraine up?"
Oh.
Oh.
Russia pursed his lips and looked away, unconsciously squeezing his hand in and out of a fist, "About that..." But Russia's mouth with dry, refusing to say the words that needed to be said. How could Russia ever phrase this?
Belarus looked at her brother in confusion for a few more seconds until her eyes widened into realization. She spoke, her voice shaky and sad, "He's not... He's not coming with us this year, is he?"
Russia tersely nodded, feeling horrible. Ukraine had called him the week before and basically said that he didn't want to come with them this year and that he'd be fine on his own. Even though Russia saw it coming and knew that Ukraine wasn't trying to hurt him or the rest of their family, Russia still felt hurt and a little less wanted. He knew that his family loved him, but he couldn't ignore Ukraine's frantic attempts to distance himself from his family. Or, to be more specific, Ukraine's attempts to distance himself from Russia. Russia wasn't an idiot, but sometimes he wished he was. Sometimes he wished he could have the obliviousness he had as a child, or maybe even America's ability to smile through any situation. That dork.
"Why is our family practically falling apart at the seams?" Bela asked, falling back onto her chair with a heart-shattering look on her face.
Russia frowned, looking away once again, "I don't know, Bela, I just don't know." That was a lie. He did, but Bela didn't need that reason right now. Russia had a feeling she already knew why and was denying it. Forcing her to accept the truth wouldn't do anything but distance them.
Bela gave Russia a sorrowful look, "I just- I'm gonna go to the bathroom..." She trailed off, quickly standing up and heading to the front of the plane where the bathrooms were.
Russia watched her walk off, sorrow starting to build up in his heart. All Russia did on the outside, however, was frown grimly. He would not- NOT- let any tears form in his eyes.
Slavs don't cry.
But Russia would be lying if he said he didn't want to as he was left all alone, with only his thoughts and endless worries to accompany him.
Slavs don't get lonely.
So, even though he'd been trying not to, Russia thought about America and his plan, no longer feeling as lonely. He felt his feelings bubble up and allowed them to quietly dwell in his heart. He felt his fear rise up, too, but that was quickly calmed. With his plan, Russia would be fine. With his plan, Russia had no need to be afraid.
With his plan, everything would be okay and no one would be hurt.
--x--
Once the private plane landed in New York, both Bela and Russia acted as though their conversation on the plane didn't happen. They simply headed off the plane, had some small talk, and got their driver, courtesy of the UN, to drive them to the hotel. Russia wasn't really that surprised when he noticed it was a different hotel than last time. America never planned these things consistently. This hotel looked much fancier than the other one. Plus, it was closer to the UN's headquarters. Russia didn't care enough to catch the hotel's name, though. He only had one thought flying through his brain.
America.
Russia needed to check up on him. Set his plan into motion, make sure America is ok, catch up with what happened over the past month, hang out, be gay while also suppressing the gay, and a lot more. Russia had promised to himself they would just be friends, and he was sticking to that; but, he also promised he would be America's best friend ever, so might as well get started on that early, right?
Russia went to Bela's and his shared suite- Russia finally knew the word for it and he was unreasonably proud- and claimed his room, chucking his suitcase on the bed with ease. It's not like he had many valuables in there other than a few vodkas he'd smuggled, so he could chuck it all he wants. Russia quickly unpacked, stashing his vodka away for a later date and putting his clothes away. He'd be staying in New York for a week, might as well be comfortable. Once all of Russia's stuff was unpacked, Russia was ready to find the dork. His dork.
Russia told Bela he was going out and walked out of his suite, making sure he didn't forget his keycard. He was walking down the hallways, trying to find a certain starry man when he saw someone he honestly didn't really want to see right now: Ukraine. Russia doesn't hate Ukraine by any means, but the whole plane thing still hurt.
Ukraine was talking to a certain red and white country. He was America's brother, Maple Weed. Wait, no, that's not his name. What was his name again? Maple Tree? No, that isn't it. Caninator? No, what idiot would name someone that? Canadia? Oh! Russia's getting close, that sounded pretty right. Canaida? Cainada? Canada? That's it! Canada. The way-too-apologetic country Ukraine had been crushing on until they actually become a thing, which was very surprising in Russia's eyes. Still is.
Even though Russia didn't want to go up and talk to them, Russia also knew that, as America's brother, Canada would probably know where the dork is. Russia walked up to the two love-birds, already feeling awkward. Welp, here goes nothing.
"Привет, Canada, Ukraine, (Hello)" Russia said, nodding to them both respectively.
Canada turned to Russia and smiled while Ukraine gave Russia an annoyed expression for interrupting their conversation. Yeah, Ukraine, Russia knows he's a dick, don't be a dick about it. Sheesh.
Canada was the first one to speak of the two, "Hello, Russia! It's nice to see you. Do you need anything?"
"Yeah, actually." Russia admitted, "Do you know where your brother- er, America- is?"
Canada thought to himself for a moment before smiling and nodding, "Yep! He's at the UN Headquarters overseeing preparations for the meetings right now."
Ah, of course. The UN meetings are always hosted in his country, after all. Russia should've thought of that. "Thanks," Russia said, nodding and walking away towards the front of the hotel. He went into the front and managed to catch a driver hired by UN before she left to grab another country arriving from the airport. Russia asked her to drive him to the UN Headquarters. She gave Russia a questioning look before shrugging and heading inside her car, inviting him inside and driving them both to the Headquarters. Once they arrived at the building, she got out of the car to help Russia out, but he was long gone, already gone to search for America. She shrugged and got out her phone, reckoning she'd have to wait for the country to come back so that he could go back to the hotel.
Meanwhile, Russia was already walking around the building, trying to find America. As the good friend Russia will be, he's gonna make sure America's okay. The last time they saw each other, America wasn't in the best shape, and Russia had to make sure he was okay, otherwise, his heart will go crazy worrying.
First, Russia stopped at the meeting room they used last month. He headed inside and noticed how it was completely and utterly empty. It looked nice, but there was no America in sight. He must be prepping in a different room. Russia left the meeting room and continued to check nearby rooms.
As Russia was trying to hunt America down, he ran into NATO in the hallways. Originally, Russia was going to ignore NATO and hope NATO did the same, until Russia stopped to reason with himself. This was NATO, for Pete's sake! Of course NATO would know where the heck America is!
'But, uh, how do I approach an alliance that was practically made to counter me?' Russia thought to himself. 'Actually, I don't think I care right now.'
Russia walked up to NATO and NATO immediately gave him a suspicious stare.
"Привет, NATO." Russia started, keeping his face as neutral as possible, "Do you know where America is? I need to talk to him."
NATO gave Russia another look, narrowing his eyes, before gruffly saying, "He's in room 220 with UN, second floor."
"Thanks," And Russia was off towards the elevator. He was so close. He was so very close.
The minute Russia was outside room 220, he accidentally slammed the door open. Great job, Russia. America, as NATO said, was in the room with UN, his back facing Russia. His signature sunglasses were on, he was wearing a suit, and he was holding a clipboard with a pen. At the sudden sound of Russia's entrance, America jumped, accidentally dropping his clipboard on the floor. The clipboard clattering on the floor was the only sound interrupting the silence that had ensued in the room. America quickly snatched his clipboard and turned around to see Russia.
Russia felt himself smile, a warm feeling in his chest reminding him how much he irrationally loved the dork in front of him. Russia inwardly sighed, America was okay. He was fine, at least Russia thought so. His worries that America changed during the past month quickly vanished, replaced by relief.
America blinked for a few seconds, mentally registering the fact that the crazy Slav who just slammed the door open was, in fact, Russia. Once that fact dawned on the stars-and-stripes, he smiled and waved at Russia.
"Oh, hey, Russ!"
Russia smiled wider and started walking towards America. He was about to say something, but then he realized something.
Russia's heart immediately dropped and his worries flooded back in. Last month, Russia wouldn't have been able to recognize it, but he most certainly could now. He loved America, after all.
And his heart knew... it knew that America's smile...
...was fake.