Love Bubbles Up Like a Soda, Pop! || RusAme ||

ˏˋ° 4 *⁀➷ Colder Shoulder

｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*♠️*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Russia jolted awake at the abrupt sound of his purposely annoying alarm, and Brutus's deep, powerful barks. The Russian sighed, letting his hand fall to the side of his bed, where his phone had fallen during the night. The days had passed quicker than they usually had, but that always seemed to be the case when there were finally some plans for the week. Those plans were the rescheduled meeting that the three big organizations had announced through their Gmail. Or, well... The United Nations' Gmail. Suddenly Russia had the wind knocked out of him and was not so pleasantly surprised to see that Brutus had hopped up onto his bed. He groaned, he should've figured out how to train Brutus so he knew he wasn't exactly a puppy anymore. "отвали, большая собака!" Russia grunted, shoving the dog off of his chest. Well, that was certainly one way to wake up in the morning.
(отвали, большая собака! --- Get off, you big dog!)

Upon sitting up, he grumbled at how groggy he was feeling. He could feel that his hair was a wreck, the soft but honestly dirty strands hung in front of his face like a poorly designed curtain. Again, he couldn't help but be grateful to himself for getting into the habit of setting alarms hours before he had to leave and go out. It could be as simple as shopping, or going on a walk but the alarms were always there if he had plans and wanted to stick to that schedule. He stretched, sighing at the feeling of his joints popping. A shower is just what he needed before the meeting. A good, cold shower, just to wake him up. He pushed the cushy and silky covers off himself, letting his feet fall and meet the cold floorboards. He was aware of the subtle breathing of Brutus, who followed him anywhere he could when he felt like it. He knew the dog looked up to him in some way, however stupid that would sound to any outside perspective... (cough cough-)

He could be thankful that at least someone looked up to him, even when his own siblings hated his guts. Was it all that awful to not like someone for a preference? That was a thought that ran through his head sometimes. Whether or not his anger or hate was justified, well, he thought it was. Ukraine's actions would've been frowned upon heavily by their father, even when they were younger, his father had commented a ton about how weak he was. Words spun around his head like a typhoon, only stopping when he realized he had just been sitting at the edge of his bed, lost in thought. Thinking about the past would only be a sick waste of time, wallowing in things that couldn't be changed was tiring. Besides, their father hadn't been... all awful. He changed a lot as they grew up. He changed for the better, and accepted his children for what they were, partly because he realized he couldn't change it... Shower, he should get that shower right about now.

He stood up, and a light creaking from his mattress followed. He dragged his feet against the cold floors, his hands grazed the drawers of his dresser, pulling on the handle and revealing an assortment of different clothing. His eyes scanned everything in front of him, and quietly he decided what he was going to wear that day. The meeting wasn't extremely formal, but he never dressed lazily on purpose, as it was just disrespectful. He pulled out a simple white tee, moved on, and grabbed a pair of dark gray khakis and long black socks. The colors sorted themself out in his mind, he hoped it would look just as ok as it did in his head. He shuffled over to his closet, pulling the door open and rummaging past a couple of miscellaneous sweaters & hoodies until he found a lightly colored jean jacket with a slightly faded patch of his flag on the upper sleeve. The jacket was old, but it had become a favorite of his. Throughout fall, winter, spring, and even summer, he wore it. It simply became a staple to those who knew him or attempted to visit him. He pushed the closet door shut, being met with a subtle click. Subconsciously, he reached up to his face, scratching the faint stubble that was becoming more prominent again. Ugh... that stubble... he hated letting it grow out.