Glass Half Empty | probably gonna get renamed

You Tried

It's in third pov later on 😭 i swear, I don't know how else to introduce them other than in 1st

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(Russia)'s POV

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"Moscow, Russia!"

Switzerland raised a brow towards where I was sitting on the gymnasium's bleachers, balanced precariously on the edge of the wooden plank. His narrow gaze felt like a spotlight full of scrutiny, brighter than the heavy industrial lights. He was probably judging me from how far I was sitting from the other students, the closest being two meters from Germany.

"Here..." I answered unenthusiastically, sliding closer to the wall.

Switzerland shrugged, unaware of the power his stare held. He swung the plastic pink clipboard in his hands, scanning through the rest of the names listed on his paper as he called them out. He'd been taking place for coach since day one despite being a student himself, arguing that it was his right to stay completely neutral to excuse himself from team sports.

It made sense. I wouldn't want to fight in a pointless competition with the prize of my ego staying intact.

Though, I know who would.

"Washington, District of Co-"

"Here, sir." The devil spoke. "America's fine."

"America," Switzerland corrected himself, saying the words with a questioning tone. I would've said them like they were poison. "What do you think dodgeball teams should be?" He looked up from the attendance sheet.

Unsurprisingly, the bastard being addressed looked to me. It wasn't to conference or anything -- I was used to the attention and frustrating antics he pulled, today wasn't different. He smirked, standing up from his top spot from the bleachers to collectively gather the gym's attention. He cupped his hands together, his mouth shifted into an uncomfortably wide set grin as he spoke matter of factly.

"Everyone vs. Russia."

I opened my mouth to object-

"That sounds fun, doesn't it?"

I sigh. This again.

The US was charismatic. And full of himself. People usually followed in step with what he did, I didn't. Which meant I was an absolute threat to his gigantic ego he stroked. He held himself to a standard, egocentric and overflowing with enough arrogance to make me gag.

He sickens me.

"Russia! You're up, down from the bleachers." Oh, f!ck me. "Everyone else to the other side of the court!" F!ck me.

I stepped down from my seat, two rows off from the ground. Everyone was staring. I hated it. It felt scrutinizing, as they hadn't judged me enough. USA joined the floor beside me, seeming to enjoy all the eyes on him. I bet the whole purpose behind this scheme was to inflate his pride, throwing another outburst to get back at me for whatever reason.

I stalked towards the end of the room, walking around the pole that strung the low net up. I avoided walking under, he'd probably make another unneeded comment about my height. A few faces who's names I couldn't remember finished placing the rubber balls in an orderly line, scurrying to their "rightful" side. I just sighed, crouching down low to the floor with my hands on my knees.