Alcohol only speaks truth (Amerus pt 2)

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Russia's POV

He had tried to avoid the american ever since the moment he had finally understood what had happened that night at the party organized by the UN.

He had started entering the meetings when they were about to start, not leaving space for the white country to come and bother him. Yes, the older man had gave him a cute book about gardening -book that, he had to admit, he had been putting into practice the past days- but that meant nothing.

Was he supposed to think that the other was going to stop seeing him as an enemy just because they had kissed when he was drunk?

Yeah, sure.

But still, America was acting weird. Everytime their eyes crossed paths, he would smile at him, his expression getting brighter as he saw him. It made his heart race and his face turn red. He had also been trying to contact him through all the ways possible, but he had blocked him, eliminated his emails and plainly ignored him time and time again.

He walked into his house, sighing as he took off his shoes and coat walking to the backyard of the building where a few flowers had started blooming.

He smiled before shaking his head.

Now he was thinking about the american again. He hugged his legs, resting his head against his knees and biting his lower lip. He was helpless, wasn't him? Here he was, madly in love with the man that hated him the most, that now knew what he felt and was probably trying to use it as an advantage to kill him.

Was this how his father had felt all those years ago?

He sighed, but was soon interrupted by a knock on the door. Rolling his eyes he got up, walking back to the house, at the door was probably one of his siblings, they were the only ones who ever visited him, but always refused to have spare keys, 'just in case you get killed and we turn into suspects', Ukraine said with a sadistic smile.

Very reassuring family, indeed.

He opened the door, just to see the country he was thinking about just a few minutes ago. He panicked and tried to close the door again, but the other just entered the house before he could do it.

"What the hell are you doing here America?" He hissed, taking a few steps back.

The white country sighed. "Yeah, I'm also good, thanks for asking. Look, we need to talk Russia" he said.

"I don't need to talk to you about anything. Go away before I call the UN" he growled.

America just shook his head, taking a few steps forward until they were almost chest to chest, Russia tried to back off, but was met with a wall. Panic started raising up his throat.

"Why are you acting like this? Why do you avoid me? I know you like me, you confessed that to me in the party."

Russia, shook his head, trying to push the other, but America just took his wrists, stopping him. "I was drunk, I was saying stupidities. Now let me go."

The american raised his eyebrows jokingly and Russia had to admit the excuse was pretty lame. "We both know that's a lie, right now you're blushing so much you look about to pass out"

Russia bit his lip, feeling his eyes watering. He hated that about himself, how easy it was to read him when he felt vulnerable. It was the reason he had practiced his poker face for years. Nobody would take seriously a man that laughed, blushed and cried easily.

He hated the feeling so much, he felt ashamed, humiliated, hurt, exposed. Seconds passed, the pressure on his head increasing with every silent ticking of the clock.

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