Forever | Countryhumans AU | RusAme/AmeRus

3

TW: POISONING (CYANIDE) AND DOMESTIC VIOLENCE (WILL PUT A WARNING BEFOREHAND)

"Amerika, I made lunch today," Russia said. "Where do you want to sit?" The Russian lifted up the lunchboxes to indicate that he brought it along. America thought for a while, before deciding, "Let's go to the gardens, it's peaceful and cooling."

Russia nodded. The garden was nice, and he wanted to see if he could find the mountain bluebird from yesterday. "I made borscht and piroshki. Eat slowly, it's still quite warm," Russia said, handing one of the lunchboxes to his shorter friend.

America thanked the Russian, opening the lunchbox. The smell of the food hit him almost instantly. "That looks so good! Ukraine wasn't kidding when he said you're a good cook." Russia snorted. "Ukraine almost never lies."

The Russian watched tentatively as America took his first bite of the piroshki. "How is it? Is it okay for you?" America looked at Russia in disbelief, taking a few more bites. "It's great! How do you even cook like this? Not even my mom can cook food like this!"

{CYANIDE POISONING WARNING}

Russia smiled slightly. "Thank you, Amerika." America nodded and returned the smile, but he felt something was off. He was starting to get a headache and breathing became difficult. His chest felt tight and uncomfortable. He tried to shake it off, thinking it was just his imagination or something like that.

Russia frowned, realising that America didn't look too well and that he was struggling to breathe. "Amerika? Are you alright?" America tried to nod and stand up, but he collapsed on the floor and retched, feeling nauseous. "Amerika!" Russia shouted, struggling to keep calm. He knew exactly what had happened to him. It was cyanide poisoning that America was suffering from. The Russian scooped America up with ease, running towards the nearest teacher he could find.

A person usually reacts to cyanide within a few minutes. The only thing Amerika ate was my piroshki. But how did it get in there? There's no cyanide in the kitchen, and nowhere near where I put the food too, so what happened? It couldn't be my father, he doesn't even know that I was making lunch for America too. Russia worried, thoughts racing through his head as the teacher he approached called for an ambulance for America.

America was limp and as pale as a sheet by the time the ambulance arrived. Russia, receiving the permission from the teacher, left with them. "You're going to be alright Amerika, just hold on a bit longer." The Russian said as the paramedics administered a Cyanokit to America and hooked him up to a ventilator.

America was rushed to the ER and the Russian was left in the waiting room, pacing and waiting for the doctor to come out of the room to tell him the news about America.

After what felt like an eternity to him, Russia was allowed in to see America. America was sleeping so soundly he almost seemed dead. Russia shivered. If the American died, would it be his fault? Would it be his fault that he didn't check the food for poison? Russia sat down, his head in his hands. I should've checked the food for poison, shouldn't've I? Maybe America wouldn't've  been poisoned.

There was a loud bang from behind Russia and a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. "Russia? What happened? I just got news that my brother was poisoned..." Russia looked up and saw Canada; Australia and New Zealand behind him. 

Russia spilled everything and was shocked to find hot tears spilling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I should've checked the food... It's my fault, I'm sorry..." Canada looked at Russia in pity. Russia was usually such a cold and emotionless person; to see him show even a tiny shred of emotion was rare. And yet he was here, broken down and apologising for something that wasn't his fault.

"Listen, it's not your fault. You wouldn't've known that there would be poison in the food. Thank you for alerting a teacher as soon as possible, or my brother..." Canada hesitated, "My brother would've died. You did your best. My parents are going to be here in ten minutes, I suggest you take your leave before they come, alright?"

Russia nodded, and stood up. Drying his tears on his sleeve, he left the hospital and checked his watch. School would've been dismissed by the time he went back, so he took a bus home instead. 

"Did he die?" Soviet asked. Russia woke from the trance he'd been ever since he left the hospital. He was back at home, and his father was at the dining table. "What do you mean?" Russia asked cautiously. 

"You know what I mean. Did that capitalist pig die?" Russia's father asked again. "How did you know about that? No one could've told you." Russia demanded, with almost as much conviction as Soviet.

"I will be the one asking the questions, son, not you. Now, did he die?" Soviet hissed. Russia hesitated. He knew if he didn't answer his father, things were going to get violent. "No, he's still alive. Amerika isn't dead."

Soviet narrowed his eyes. "Why did you help him? I've told you before, UK and his family are all scum. They are our enemy. What don't you get? They want to get rid of me, of all of us! You can't trust them! It's much better if he were to die!"

Before he could stop himself, Russia argued, "But папа, he's my friend, and he isn't that bad! He's a nice person-"

{DOMESTIC VIOLENCE WARNING}

Soviet lifted his fist and struck Russia. Russia would have dodged it easily, but he didn't see any point trying to escape his father. He'd just have to wait it out and bear the pain. "Что, блять возьми, с тобой не так? Ты что, оглохла? Почему ты не можешь меня слушать? You're useless!" Soviet growled, kicking Russia, who was curled on the floor in a ball, protecting his head and chest from the merciless attack.

Soviet finally and abruptly stopped after a few long and painful minutes, pulling on his coat and leaving the house. Russia continued to stay curled up in a ball until Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan and his other siblings reached home. 

Ukraine came in first, covering his mouth in shock when he saw Russia bruised and scratched. He motioned for Belarus to bring their younger siblings to the park, so they wouldn't have to see Russia. Belarus nodded, understanding his intention. Grabbing some bread, she announced, "Change of plans, let's go to the park to feed the pigeons!"

Ukraine and Kazakhstan knelt beside Russia. "Can you stand up?" Kazakhstan asked. "I think so," Russia said hoarsely. Ukraine and Kazakhstan pulled him up onto his feet, and Russia limped to his room. "I'll get the first-aid kit, alright? Kaz, can you help Russia check for any fractures?"

Kazakhstan nodded and Ukraine left to fetch the kit. "Where does it hurt very badly?" Kazakhstan asked. Russia pointed to his left wrist, "It hurts, but I can't be sure if it's fractured."

Kazakhstan looked at the wrist carefully. It was bent at an awkward angle and it seemed swollen. He put his hand on the wrist gently, moving it slightly. Russia jerked his hand back and hissed loudly in pain. "It's fractured, here, put your wrist on the pillow."

Russia put his wrist on the pillow gingerly. Ukraine came through the door with the first-aid kit. "I fractured my wrist," Russia said, biting his lip. Ukraine handed him some aspirin and started to dab his cuts with iodine. Kazakhstan grabbed an ice pack to reduce the swelling and bruising. Russia stood still, bearing the stings and hissing silently.

"You should rest, we'll handle dinner," Kazakhstan told Russia while he put a wooden splint on the wrist and used a brace to fasten it in place. Russia nodded as his two brothers left the room, conversing silently about their father and Russia's injuries. He was starting to feel drowsy from the aspirin and lay on the bed, hoping that America was fine and stable.