Angst Week No. 2!
Most of you will probably already know this story, and how it goes ;)
So here's my version of this song/story-
It's set in a high school AU(cliche I know) so just keep that in mind-
This is largely inspired by another 'My R' fanfic, by Demi_Red95 on Archive of our own, from the Sanders Sides fandom(fellow T.S fans, anyone here?)
And there's a countryhuman animatic on YT with Ame as the star that I watched couple of times cuz Its good UwU
Enjoy!!
(warning: suicide attempts and thoughts)
(Read in your own comfort zone please thank you :))
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Russia took a deep breath, and stopped at the last step. The stairway was always musky, and there was a patch of moss on the wall he had watch grow from a small penny sized speckle to the huge green expanse it was now.
He pushed opened the door, getting a long, loud creak from the rusty hinges. It didn't matter, no one would hear it. It was an abandoned building, which was why he came almost every other day.
Dropping his backpack near the door, he began to untie his boots. They were heavy combat boots, which would only make him hit the ground feet first. He didn't want that to happen.
"...pasensya na, mama..."
He snapped his head up, his heart pounding with fright. Who was that, he heard that voice!
It was only then he noticed another figure sitting on the wall, a red bandanna clutched in his hand, fluttering in the wind.
Russia forgot his boots, standing up quickly, keeping his eyes on the stranger.
"Hey, don't do it, please!"
The figure turned around, eyes wide with surprise and tear-filled. Russia speed walked over to the edge of the rooftop, stopping a few feet away from the person. He was shocked when he took in the familiar hoodie, red skin and heterochromatic gold and brown eyes.
"Phil?"
Philippines shook his head, staring right back at him. He clutched his bandanna harder, as a tear slipped down his face.
"What are you doing here?" Russia demanded, sounding almost angry. In fact he was worried, and shocked. At himself. Why did he shout that out? Today was going to be his day, and now it was gone.
Phil was always smiling, attentive in lessons, and so playful with Malaysia and Indonesia. He was happy with China, it was obvious. So why was he here? On the roof?
"Come on. Take my hand." He said again, holding out his hand toward him. Philippines reacted almost immediately in fear to his seemingly harsh tone, using his free hand to take the bigger, calloused outstretched palm.
Russia pulled him back as quickly as he dared, keeping his eyes on him. Once his legs crossed the wall, they collapsed down to the ground. Phil sobbed and trembled violently, beginning to cry into his shirt.
He froze, but put his arm around his...friend's...back, doing his best to comfort him. He didn't know what to do other than be there, he wasn't good with words.
A few more minutes later, Phil began to calm down, wiping his cheeks on his sleeve. His eyes were red, but he would almost see a tiny spark of the old Phil in there. Russia fished out a tissue in his pocket, and handed it to him slowly.
"...Wanna talk about it?"
"....You've probably heard it all before..."
He poured out his woes to him, pausing in the middle to cry again. China had dumped him two days ago, with barely more than a short call. He hadn't seen him since, not even in school. He heard a rumor that he was already going out with Vietnam. He couldn't take it.
Russia listened as quietly and nicely as he could, keeping close to Philippines as comfort. But he was slowly losing it, it was such a dumb reason. It was unbelievable.
"For God's sake please!" He finally snapped when Phil started to tear up again. The smaller boy sat straighter in shock, staring at him as he continued to speak.
"Are you serious, are you kidding me? I just can't believe, that for some stupid reason you got here before me!" He said loudly, staring straight into his eyes.
"Are you upset 'cause you can't have what you wanted? You're lucky that you've never gotten robbed of anything!"
Russia took a deep breath, trying to keep calm and not frighten him. But Phil seemed to shake a mist off his eyes, and that tiny spark grew as he watched Russia.
"Look..." Russia sighed, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up to face him, sternly looking him in the eye. "Just...never let someone break you down like that. You're not just some fragile toy that will break apart if someone that's not even worth it keeps you together. You're better than that. You hear me?"
Philippines nodded slowly, blinking away his tears and putting on a small, but determined smile.
"I'm feeling better now, thank you...for listening." He said softly. They stood up, and dusted themselves off. Russia gave him a smile back, and nodded. He waved and opened the creaky door, going back down the stairway.
Russia leant against the wall, and looked down. The concrete ground folded out beneath him, almost inviting him into its unforgiving surface. He quickly looked away, walking back to the door. It felt wrong now, after what happened.
Scooping up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder, he looked back at the edge one more time. The wind ruffled through his hair, chilling his face and drying his eyes.
He could come back tomorrow.
(🐬 time skip🐬)
Russia walked up the steps two at the time, trying to keep his ragged breathing in check as he raced up another flight.
It was too much. Everything was too much. Today was the day.
He pushed open the door, throwing a sleeve over his eyes as he yanked both boots off. He threw them haphazardly on the ground and opened his eyes.
He stopped short as he saw a figure on the wall, one leg on one side, the other dangling over thin air. It was a extra windy day, making the red and blue hair fly messily over his head. The sunlight reflected off dark sunglasses.
"America!!" Russia shouted, walking toward him quickly. "Don't do it, please!"
The other countryhuman turned his head around, a shocked expression on his face at the sudden appearance of another person. "R-Russki?"
"Yes it's me, you dumb capitalist." He said plainly, stopping a few feet away from him. America relaxed slightly, and managed to get out a dry chuckle. His usual big, white gleaming grin was gone, and his face looked much emptier without it.
They stood there for a few more minutes, neither moving an inch. Russia kept an eye on him, in fear that if he just diverted his glance for one second, he would disappear down into nothingness.
America sighed heavily, and looked down at him from the wall, pulling on a grin with effort. "Nice weather today, right?" He said, an edge of pain in the last word.
Russia paused, but nodded. "Yeah."
America didn't say anything back, but Russia felt that he was silently hoping, begging, that he would continue their conversation.
"Do...do you want to come down here to enjoy it with me? It-It's nicer down here." Russia asked, gesturing to the spot beside him on the rooftop. He saw a flash of gratitude and relief on America's face, and he swung his leg over the wall, sliding down the wall.
They stood facing each other, before Russia gestured for them to sit on the ground. America sank down as if he weighted a hundred kilograms, crossing his legs under him and burying his face in his hands, avoiding his sunglasses with practised ease.
Russia didn't say anything, but scooted just a little closer to him, not quite touching, but enough to let him feel his presence. America sighed, and dropped his hands, staring at the ground. Russia pressed him silently, waiting patiently to listen.
"...you've probably heard it all before-"
He talked about just how alone he truly felt, even though it seemed in school that he was friends with literally everybody, but he always felt like a sore thumb, he had no true culture, no proper national language, not like everyone else. When everyone had something they could bond over, he never did.
Russia listened, until he was sure the other had finished. He stretched out his back, and then pointly said "You really are an idiot."
"What?" America asked in disbelief. By now, tears had gathered in his eyes, and he furiously tried to blink them away before the dam bursted.
"I just can't believe, that for some stupid reason you got here before me." Russia said again in a tone that got America's blood start to boil. Before he got a chance to retort angrily, Russia turned to face him with such a serious expression that made him shut his mouth and slouch back to his place on the floor.
"Cause even so, you're still loved by everyone at home! There's always dinner waiting on the table, you know? Your mom, France is probably waiting, right now! For you!"
"You're family will be there for you, Ame! You might feel alone, but your family will always have your back. It's...an unconditional type of love." He added softly, but shook his head, continuing to glare America down.
"Remember Canada? Australia? New Zealand? They're your brothers, and they've always been by your side, even when no one else would talk to you! Britain, always supported you, even though you always disobey him anyway."
America had to smile at that last part, and sneakily raised his hand under his sunglasses to wipe away a tear, hoping Russia wouldn't notice.
"Who cares what other people think if you have all that?! And France, as much of a mother figure as you can get, loves you! She probably has a dozen casseroles waiting for you for dinner, you fat pig." Russia exclaimed, jabbing him on the shoulder good naturally to get some sense into him.
He took a deep breath after his long speech, hoping he hadn't gone too far, he got carried away. He started to panic, what if he had? He always messes things up. Useless. Pathetic-
But America started to laugh, a genuine laugh, and weakly jabbed him back. Russia jerked in surprise, but tried to cover it up and smiled back at him, swallowing his own thoughts.
"I'm hungry." America smiled, and a tear slipped down pass the barrier of his sunglasses, but he didn't move to hide it.
They stood up, and America touched his shoulder to get his attention.
"Thanks...Russia. For that." He said, softly but full of sincerity. He adjusted his sunglasses and smiled, small compared to his usual one, but genuine, more natural.
Russia gave him a small smile back, and watched America run quickly to the door and down the stairs, probably going home immediately. It was evening already, and his family was definitely all home.
Rusia sighed, and let his smile drop. He went to the wall, resting his arms on the surface. The sun casted orange and pink shades across the sky, giving a bit of colour to the long rows of boring buildings on the horizon. He watched the dark shadows of the other nearby buildings creep across the ground.
The drop still called to him, but after this, he couldn't help but feel something else pull him back. He groaned, resting his forehead on the wall, and pushed away, walking back to collect his boots.
Not today. Again.
(🐬 time skip🐬)
It happened again, day after day. Everytime he tried, couldn't take it anymore, felt like that day was it, there was someone else there.
Italy, who was often bullied for being how weak he was now, unlike his famed predecessors.
Japan, plagued by guilt about her past, even though how hard she tried to overcome and succeed in her own way, which got her hate and dislike from other students as well.
Finland, normally seen so cold and unreachable, who just couldn't take life anymore.
Poland, who couldn't cope with his PTSD any longer, wishing for release.
It was starting to get unbearable, every single time he went up there, something or someone would stop him. He almost wanted to stop going, find another building that was less of a popular attraction.
But a nagging guilt ate away at him, and the next day he went up again, with more of a purpose and an objective to be walking down these steps again, and less of those of feeling useless and tired.
He pushed open the door, and there was yet again, another person, sitting on the wall, facing the wide expanse of sky. A red tie lay discarded on the ground nearby.
Russia took a deep breath, and walked toward the new person, ready to shout.
"Hey, don't do it, please!"
He recognized Germany, a childhood friend. He had also grown up, still quite short though. Germany held the same expression of shock everyone he encountered had on their face when they saw him, calling out to them to stop.
They talked, and this time, it was sometime he could semi-relate to. Both had horrible fathers, no mother, and were a part of the student community, but were still partly 'outcast'.
Germany smiled at him after he had finished talking, and felt much better after letting things out. Russia smiled back, now used to pulling a good smile for other people on this rooftop.
Normally, after that step, the people alway left, leaving him alone on the roof again. After he had listened, tried his best to comfort them, made them turn away.
And yet there was no one who would do this for him, no way he could let out all his own pain. Sometimes he wished someone, just one, would turn back, and ask him. What was he doing on this roof? He pushed the thought away, and hardened the stone case over his heart.
When Germany pulled him in for a hug, he froze, shocked and slightly frightened, not expecting it at all.
"Danke, Russland. M-May I call you that?" Germany asked him softly, his previously tear stained eyes now curious, gentle. It made his golden irises look like it glowed, like liquid gold.
Russia stuttered, still unable to speak, but nodded. Germany smiled again, and buried his face into his chest again, his arms still tightly wrapped around his torso. "Okay. Thank you, Russland." He mumbled into his chest, making Russia shiver and feel heat rise up his face for some reason.
He didn't seem to be letting go soon, so slowly, Russia put his own arms around the smaller boy. He hadn't hugged anyone in years, it felt awkward. But Germany seemed to like it, and hugged him back tighter.
But it ended sooner than he liked, and soon Germany was waving him goodbye, and walking down the stairway.
Russia felt the warmth from his body slowly leave him, and couldn't help feeling a bit sad. He wished those arms could be around him again, it felt...nice. He wanted to wrap his own arms around himself to preserve that warmth, but thought that was too pathetic. He shook his head clear, and quickly walked down the stairway.
He half jogged home, avoiding his siblings as much as he possibly could, and told Lithuania to make dinner, none for him. He was exhausted, and wanted to sleep.
Avoiding his father in the living room, who had a bottle of vodka in hand again, he sped up the stairs as silently as he could, and slammed the door to his bedroom close. Taking off his boots and jacket, he sat down on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face tiredly.
Pulling on a new set of shirt and pants, he pulled off the ushanka on his head, dropping it to the floor.
Burying his face into his pillow, Russia closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.
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Part 2 soon no problem-
I hope you guys are liking dis :D
Its totally not a vent that I wrote in one day-
See you for part 2 in like...idk few days XD