Forever | Countryhumans AU | RusAme/AmeRus

9

When America awoke, the sunlight from outside was streaming into the hospital room and into his eyes. He groaned, pulling the blanket up over his head and closed his eyes again, hoping for a few more minutes of shut-eye. He must've fallen asleep while watching the stars while lying on the bed, he realised. 

The American closed his eyes again for a moment or two, but his trapped body heat was starting to make him feel uncomfortable and too warm under the blanket. "Oh, what the hell," he grumbled, kicking the covers off his body. He stretched out on the hospital bed and sighed. He was finally going to be discharged today. 

A nurse came in with a tray of food, presumably America's breakfast. He mumbled his thanks and glanced anxiously at the food once the nurse had left. It was some baked beans and scrambled eggs. Despite himself, his stomach growled loudly.

America picked up a spoon. The scrambled eggs looked creamy, but it was also slightly soggy. Scooping a small portion of it, he inspected it, smelling and poking at it with a fork. After a few minutes, his stomach protested violently again, and he finally shoved the spoon in his mouth. After detecting nothing unusual, he ate some more of his breakfast.

While America was putting away the tray which had contained his breakfast, his phone buzzed and lit up. Whipping around, he unlocked his phone to be greeted by a text message from Russia.

-Hey Ame (can I call you that?)

-Yeah sure

-Brought a book for you today
-Russian folklore

-Ooo can't wait to read it
-Wyd?

-Nothing much
-I'm bored, hbu

-I'm bored too, can't wait to be discharged
-I can't wait for 4pm

-I'll come at 2pm after school l8tr

-Can't wait to see you

-Cya

America set his phone down on the nightstand beside the bed, as Russia went offline too, probably since class was starting. As he did so, he noticed a ballpoint pen, and remembered that it belonged to Russia. He picked it up and spun it around his fingers, deep in thought.

Russia's laugh played in his head clearly, and America smiled. A warmth flooded his heart and colour started to rise in his cheeks. The American snapped back to reality and covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. Why do I keep thinking about Russia and blushing? He wondered, trying to keep a neutral face.

He shook his head and checked the time on his phone. It was 11am. 3 hours until Russia's coming to visit, he thought unconsciously. "Ah, there I go again," he laughed at himself quietly, "Unconsciously thinking about him."

It wasn't such a bad thing though, to America. Russia was a close friend. Russia saved his life, and the American appreciated his friend for that. It was only natural that America thought about him a lot, right?

America grinned and grabbed a piece of paper from the small pile of homework that Russia had helped to pass to him. He selected a pencil from his pencil case and started sketching to kill time.

Before America knew it, lunch had passed and it was 2pm. While he was still preoccupied, Russia had slipped silently into the room. "Hi Amerika, what are you doing?"

America jumped and swore under his breath as he accidentally threw the pencil and paper he was using. The paper fluttered a little away from Russia's feet, and he picked it up before America got to it. 

Russia gaped at the sketch. "This... this is really good. Is that me?", he asked, pointing at it. America jerked his head up and down quickly, a small movement but a nod nonetheless. "It's really realistic," Russia mumbled, his cheeks warm, "I didn't know you drew."

America blushed. "Y-yeah... I've been drawing practically ever since I was born. My mom said the first thing I picked up was a pencil. I don't think it's that good though..." he replied, reaching for the sketch in Russia's hands.

"It is," Russia insisted, "Anyway, here's the book I said I'd bring." He unzipped his bag and retrieved a leather bound book with some Russian and English words engraved on the front and side.

America took the book. "This looks interesting," he commented, chuckling, "Better not let my dad take it away from me." 

"My dad doesn't like your family but I can't give a flying fuck. His opinion doesn't matter when I want to befriend a nice person." America continued, beaming at the taller male. "I'll read this later."

"Thanks, I guess," Russia said awkwardly. "Y'know, you can keep the books, right? It doesn't really matter." He stated, trying to turn the conversation.

"Really? Thanks, Ruski!" America's face lit up, and even though Russia couldn't see behind his sunglasses, he could tell that the American's eyes were sparkling in gratitude.

"No problem... also why do you wear those sunglasses all the time? I can't see your eyes through those lenses."

America flinched.

"Um," the shorter male hesitated.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me-" Russia started.

America took his sunglasses off. A rash move, but he didn't want to hide it forever. No one outside his family other than Germany and Poland knew. It was time for someone else to know too.

"If I tell you, do promise you won't hate me?" America muttered, his eyes on the floor and his head bowed so that Russia couldn't see his face.

"Of course, definitely," Russia said confidently.

America took in a deep breath and looked up at his friend. Russia gasped in shock. One of America's eyes was a light hazel and the other was sky-blue.

"I have heterochromia. I wear these sunglasses to hide it, because I'm ashamed of it; I hate how it looks." America fiddled with his sunglasses and looked down again. "I hate how ugly my eyes are."

Russia lifted America's chin. "They're not ugly. They are one of the most beautiful things I've seen in my life. I'm not saying this because I pity you. I don't pity you, I envy you. I'm saying this because it's the truth. Okay? Don't hide your eyes, please?"

America choked back the tears threatening to well in his eyes and hugged Russia. "Thank you, Rus, no one has ever said such nice stuff about me before."

Russia's expression softened as he hugged his friend back and said, "You're very welcome."

They stayed like this for some time, before Russia pulled away. "I've got to go, see you. Take care, and don't miss me too much." He chuckled, sounding rather sad, and left with his bag.

America laughed to himself. What did Russia mean "don't miss me too much"? It wasn't like Russia was going to transfer to another school or something, or was he?

He shrugged it off and opened the book that Russia had brought for him and flipped to the last page to check how many pages it had, like he always did. He noticed the piece of paper that was attached with a paperclip to the last page, and his curiosity prompted him to take a look at it. 

He shook it open and scanned the neat handwriting on it.

It was America's turn to be surprised.

America sprinted to the door and into the hallway as fast as he could manage, and looked around. Russia was nowhere in sight. Panicking,  the American thought desperately for a way to find his friend.

Ukraine, he remembered, Ukraine is Russia's brother, they live together, but how do I contact him? Will Canada have his address or at least, his number?

It was worth a shot, he decided, and hurried back into the room to call his brother, who picked up almost immediately.

"I need your help, it's about Russia. I think he's going to do something really stupid and fatal. Do you have Ukraine's number or address?"