Love Doesn't Have Words [SLOW UPDATES]

-Not That Way-

Property of Russia

The lunch room was pretty big. It had six long tables on each side, and one going down the middle of the room. In the back was the area you would buy your lunch at. I guess me and my siblings forgot to bring lunches, or we were supposed to buy them. Either way, I forgot to bring money, so I guess I just won't eat lunch.

Philippines, Malaysia, and Indonesia end up going to the far side and sitting at the first table. I sat on the end, and just sat and listened to them talk. They were pretty funny, and had some interesting stories to tell about each other.

"Russ!"

I wasn't used to having my name called. I look up, and I see none other than America walking over. The three beside me had stopped talking as the loud striped country sat across from me.

"Hey there, Phil, Malay, and Indo." America gave his greetings to the three.

"Hey," they all answered in unison.

I felt uncomfortable, being in the center of this. But America started talking casually to the other three. I'm glad I didn't make friends with people who were total strangers to each other, because that would be awkward.

America turned to me, and signed something quickly. I nodded in response, adding an additional thumbs up to say "sure".

"What was that?" Indonesia asked, looking very confused.

"Was that sign language? Cool, what did you say?" Philippines asked, looking between me and America.

"I asked if it was okay to bring some of my friends over here to join," America explained. The three 'oh'ed and gave their affirmations before America walked off to go find whoever he wanted to bring.

"So, you speak in sign?" Philippines asked, turning to me.

I nodded, scratching the back of my neck nervously as the other two looked at me as well.

"That's cool! What kind?" Malaysia asked.

I put up my hands, but then realized that they probably don't know any sign anyways, so I point to myself, then at where America was sitting.

They didn't get it.

Jeez, explaining yourself when you can't talk or use sign is just a confusing game of charades. I point to myself again, then America's spot again.

"Oh, wait! Russian sign and American sign, duh!" Philippines said with a smile.

I sighed and nodded. It would be hard explaining things when no one could understand me. Thankfully I have a bunch of classes with people who know sign.

Soon, America came back. He had a few people behind him, who sat down and greeted the Asians beside me. There was Canada, a blue country with a bunch of stripes in the corner and some stars scattered around his face, and a girl that looked like the blue one but with four red stars instead of five white ones. They introduced themselves to me, the boy was Australia, and the girl was New Zealand, who were obviously brother and sister. They also said that they were America's younger siblings, and Canada was the middle child.

That last part surprised me. I knew Canada and siblings, but America was one of them? And more surprising was that Canada was the middle child and not the oldest, he was the tallest of the four.

I push that aside and talk to the group for a while. I think I like being at school. There are so many nice people here. As we talk, New Zealand notices I don't have any lunch. Her and her brothers give me some of their food instead. Malaysia gave me some of his too. I said they were nice, didn't I?

I put my hand to my mouth and put it down with a smile, signing 'thank you'. Canada and New Zealand nodded, and America said "anytime!" Malaysia smiled at me, guessing what I said from the other three's reactions.

I went back to just listening to them as I ate. It was nice, hearing people be so happy. I couldn't remove the small smile on my face thinking about how I was a part of it. No one talked too much at my house, which I've been cooped up in for the past six years. Hearing laughter and joy made me feel... good.

I think I zoned out again, because I suddenly hear my name being called as a hand is waved in from of my eyes. I snap out of my trance and shake my head. A few of my friends laugh. I smiled sheepishly, looking up to see my sister, Belarus. I didn't know she had this lunch period, but I feel my shoulders relax knowing that she's here.

I wave at her, and she waves back, giving me a short side hug before looking around my table. "Я вижу, ты подружился," she said with a smile. I nod in response.

Belarus speaks to the table. "Sorry about him spacing out, he gets too caught up in his thoughts." The scarfed girl turned to me, her polite smile turning more playful. "Besides, Я думаю он любит Америка."

I feel my face start to burn. I hit her on the shoulder, only earning me a laugh. I can't believe she said that, my own sister! I hope no one knows Russian, or I'm a dead man.

Luckily, everyone just laughed in confusion, probably at my response. I gave Belarus a threatening glare anyways, and she held up her hands defensively. Her cheeky smile never faltered. In fact, it only widened after the next person spoke.

"Hey, I heard my name! What was that about?" America yelled, interest sparking in his eyes before he pushed up his sunglasses.

I look at Belarus again, and she starts laughing. What a wonderful sister she is. I try to push down the heat on my face. I can only assume how red I look.

I quickly try to sign out about how it was nothing, and America understood, thank goodness.

Around us, a bunch of people start to get up and throw their trash away. It's probably time to leave lunch, which I was grateful for. I didn't want to sit through any more of my sister's pestering, even if no one knew what she was saying.

Everyone at my table gets up. Some start walking to the trash cans in the back of the room to throw away some things, and some go to the exit to wait until we can go to our next class. I look at my schedule, and find that under "обед" was art.

Everyone says their goodbyes to whoever is heading the opposite direction. Belarus comes to stand next to me as we head towards the door.

"So, was I right?" she asked, trying to look casual, but her eager smile was hard to hide.

I quickly shook my head, trying to ignore my heating up cheeks again.

I don't like America, at least not in that way. He's cool and all, but he's just a friend. Sure, I want to spend more time with him, but that's because I want to get to know him better. So we can be closer friends, of course! Nothing else. Sure, I want to have him in all my classes, but that's because they're all boring and America has a way to make things fun. Sure, I want to take off his sunglasses and look at his eyes and intricate flag. Sure, I want to hold his gloved hands. Okay, maybe I don't have a reason for those, but that must be friend stuff! Right?

The bell rings and people start to file out of the lunch room. I take my chance to run, wanting to get as far away from Belarus' questions as possible.

I don't love America.

——
Translations:
(Tell me if I'm wrong)

Я вижу, ты подружился: "I see you have made friends" in Russian. (Paraphrased, since I forgot what I put exactly).

Я думаю он любит Америка: "I think he likes/loves America" in Russian.

обед: "lunch" in Russian.