Sticky Notes And Trinkets (Rusame)

Rule Number Twelve: Muscle Isn't Always Visible

Russia smiled a bit, finding the pins his gift giver had given him cute, though it still frustrated him to no end that he didn't know who they were. He shook his head to clear the thought as he collected the book from his locker, closed it, then headed towards room one twenty six.

He then leaned on the wall, looking over to see if he could spot anyone else in the hallway, maybe find out who was giving him these gifts.

He spent the last few minutes before the halls flooded with people attempting to spot the person, he didn't care who it was, he just wanted to let them down gently - their intentions seemed pretty damn clearly romantic, and they had been since the rose candles. He needed to find them so they were hurt less.

He already had someone he was interested in, and the sooner he could break it to the person the better. He may not know this artsy person, but they deserved someone actually interested in them, and that person wasn't him.

The sooner he caught them, the less it'd hurt them in the long run.

He didn't want to hurt them more, so considering taking them as a friend was out of the question. That'd leave the gift giver with a lot more emotional turmoil. But he wouldn't turn down friendship if he was wrong about their intentions.

He glared at the wall after the bell had rung and class had started. He had gained a new personal distaste for world history.

He was happy when the dismissal bell for first period rang, happily getting up and collecting his stuff, leaving the classroom, heading to his locker and putting down his textbook for the class and collecting the one for the next class.

Before he headed to the next class, he paused at America's locker to stick down another sticky note. It said: "Hey beautiful, are you a fruit? Because I believe we'd make a great pear". He couldn't help himself, America was beautiful and if he were honest, from everything he'd heard about the little cutie- he was also his type too, so he wasn't really lying with the flirt.

He then backed away to wait to see America's reaction to it. He watched as America grabbed the note, read it and went red in the face. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like that reaction. He smiled a little as he saw America stick the note to the inside cover of the binder he was carrying. He'd noticed that America was keeping all of them, and he liked knowing that America kept them, he hoped they were helping give America more confidence.

He shook his head and started towards the room for his next class.

He hummed to himself as he took a seat and waited for a roll call, allowing himself to zone out while he waited for Mrs. Dackermon to get to him.

He happily greeted her when she got to him, acknowledging that he was here. Once she'd left he glanced over towards America.

He noticed America cleaning something off his desk, and frowned, noticing that whatever it was made the other upset. So he took out a little bit of paper, writing: "Hey, you doing alright there cutie?"

He could swallow his pride to make America feel better, plus he wasn't lying about being concerned, or that he thought America was a cutie. He was cute among other things - sexy as fuck being one.

Once he was marked present and had the work for the class, he distracted himself with that.

Once he was done with the work packet, he went back to looking at America. He noticed that the little bit of red hair that stuck up in the side part of his hair seemed to kind of move of its own accord, almost as though it went with his emotions.

He smiled, honestly that was kind of cute. It was nice to have a way to read the cutie, as his eyes were covered. He couldn't really get that easy of a read on America, his body language seemed really controlled and his eyes were fully covered.

That photophobia was a damn shame because America had pretty eyes that shouldn't cause pain when seeing light.

He shook his head a little to clear his thoughts.

It wasn't long until the dismissal bell rang. He waited and watched as America got up and headed out of the classroom before he got up himself and collected the note on his desk. When he read it, he was more concerned than the cutie definitely wanted. The response read: "Someone just wrote stuff on my desk again. Again, nothing I'm not used to; don't worry about me so much." He couldn't help but worry more about that. Telling someone not to worry kind of had the opposite effect! Especially with this sort of thing! Not that he could fault America. He sighed and headed to the lunch room, tucking the note away into his bag.

He sat down at a lunch table with Cuba, sighing a little.

"I wish you would have told me how bad he was being bullied,"Russia grumbled. "And who's responsible"

"Mmmm... If I did that I don't think there'd be anyone here, so I don't think I should."Cuba simply stated.

"Then I'll get the information out of him myself - when I get to talk to him properly."Russia grumbled out the last part, well aware that he probably wouldn't have that in him for at least another week.

Cuba sighed and Russia went to picking at his lunch.

Eventually lunch was over and he headed to the gym building.

During gym, they were going to the weight training area. The small safety lecture was boring, but otherwise the class went by pretty quickly. There wasn't much of note for him. Though he found himself admittedly surprised by how much America seemed to be able to lift- it did not look like he had the muscles to back up what he was doing.

It was impressive- but also baffling. America was lifting more than he weighed - that he was sure of. America looked like an entire twink, skinny as a stick- but he was lifting his own weight and then some. He let out a low whistle.

"You done?" He heard Cuba say.

"Mmph" He grumbled, dragging his gaze away from America. "How much is he even lifting..?"

"Probably a hundred twenty five pounds, fifty-seven ish kilos- if I were to guess, his weight and a half." Cuba responded, leading them over to a machine.

"Damn, he's strong," Russia absentmindedly commented.

"Yeah- real athletic. He could probably do lifting competitively, don't really know why he doesn't - guess he just likes cheer too much."

Russia shrugged and got himself into position.

The rest of the class flew by, and so did the next one.

It wasn't long before he was in practice, and they were doing their usual thing.

His thoughts kept drifting to America whenever he had time to let it wander.

He was entirely fucked.