Frostbite |CountryHumans|

Not Relaxing

Warning: Abuse. Also, this chapter is practically two different chapters. "Not Dying" which is the beginning of this chapter does include abuse. While "St-Rest And Relaxation" does have smoking and mentions of intoxication...barely. 

Check yo mental helf before you wreck yo self

(Not Dying)

Day #5. Tuesday, December 5th. Dorm #24. 6:21 AM. 

Scotland's whole body felt heavier than usual as he brushed out the thick tangles in his hair. He stared into his reflection in the clear, clean mirror through tired, heavy eyes. What was weird was that Scotland had been awake for the past hour and he had taken a shower, but he still felt drained of all of his energy. Not to mention how hard it was to breathe through his rather mucus filled sinuses and trachea. There was also the uncomfort of cold. Even though cold temperatures are comfortable, this kind of cold was nauseating. 

'We're ill, admit it.' 

"Hey Scot? Did you perchance move my slippers?" England asked energetically from behind him. 

"You have sl-" Scotland's question was interrupted by a short fit of nasty coughing. He turned to his left just enough to partially face his twin. 

England's hair was down, flowing behind her like a white and red cape. She wore a baggy creme t-shirt and shorter cut black shorts. Behind her was the end of the balcony that overlooked the main living room and dorm. And she was looking at him with an accusing expression, raised eyebrows and all; which provoked some sort of negative reaction. 

"Dè?" (What?) the Scot spat out defensively with his arm still up to his face. 

"I guess that we aren't training today," England said with a shrug. 

Scotland squinted at her with confusion as he dropped his arm to his side. He put his hairbrush back on the sink counter and unwillingly sniffled. England didn't need her brother to ask why the day's plans were suddenly canceled; since his expression gave his question away. 

"Scot, look at yourself. Somebody's ill I reckon," England pointed out. 

Scotland sluggishly turned his head to see his reflection once more. His skin was somehow even more pale, his posture had fallen to something resembling a zombie, the only color in his face was a slight pink on the tips of his ears and nose, and overall, he just appeared to be the definition of unwell. "I'm fine," Scotland grumbled, glaring over at his twin. 

England simply told him to copy what she does. She held out her right hand with the back of it facing Scotland. The Scot did the same thing, with the back of his right hand facing his sibling. England put the back of her hand to her forehead; doing the gesture as if teaching a child how to do it. Scotland rolled his eyes, held his hair out of the way, and he put the back of his hand on his forehead just like England did. The skin on his scarred hand felt as if it would burn clear off; like touching an electric stove top after it had been used. 

"Gah! What the hell?!" Scotland cursed as he quickly removed his hand from his forehead. Naturally, he shook his hand as if he could just shake the stinging away. 

"That's what I thought. Go take a rest before you get your germs everywhere," England commanded, "And don't argue with me on this. I don't care if it is a cold or Lishtor's flu, I don't want it."