you'll never be alone <3 (Rusame)

♡☆8☆♡

America blinked his eyes awake in the dark. He was warm- almost too warm. Russia. Russia was right next to him- he wasn't holding him anymore, but he was rather close. America eased away from him. Maybe he had had just a bit too much to drink last night-- why else would Russia hold him like that? It must have just been a drunken notion... Right? He shifted out of Russia's bed and pulled on his clothes, lacing up his sneakers and zipping up his jacket. He sneaked silently out into the hall, leaving Russia alone.

The house was laced with sleeping countries. Finland and Norway were passed out on the stairs. South Korea and Japan looked like they had fallen asleep in the process of drunkenly making out. Germany, Ukraine, and Mexico were passed out on the couch, console controllers in hand. Of course- Germany always went after the gamer girls, didn't he? As he dodged the dozens of party goers, he noticed a light in the kitchen. A little light blue country was eating shredded cheese and ketchup out of the refrigerator.

Once America climbed back into his room through the window, he flopped down onto his bed. He was... Confused.

How did he feel about Russia?

•••

Russia woke up, early as always. America was no where to be seen, and the door was cracked, so he must have went home in the middle of the night. Russia cursed internally. What had he done? It was just a prank that got out of hand! Had he lost one of his only friends? Wait a minute, what? Wasn't he just a frenemy? Yes, surely, an acquaintance at best. As he shook the thought out of his mind, he sat up and looked around, letting out a sigh. Russia hated confrontation, but at least the cafe was closed on the weekends. He heard his phone let out a ding-- his notification for text messages.  At this time? Nevertheless, he picked it up and read the small notification tab.

"New message from America"

Russia froze for a second.

Slowly, he opened his phone and clicked on the tab.

Meet me at Voilá at 7.

Russia swallowed hard. What could he want? He put his phone face-down on the night stand and looked over at the window. Of course. He would want to meet at a restaurant at 7 in the morning,wouldn't he? Nutty, like his whole demeanor. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and donned a striped T-shirt (he was ever fond of stripes). He opened the door and groaned as he walked down the hallway. It was six o'clock in the morning, but no matter- they were out.

He walked around, waking up countries and sending them packing. With a fair amount of grumbling and stumbling around, the house emptied out, little by little- and the mess came into view. It looked like a tornado of robbers had swept over the ground floor of his home. Germany and Ukraine were asleep by Russia's courtesy, but no no no, not anymore. He shouted them awake. Germany struggled to open his eyes, but was thoroughly startled when he saw a furious Russia standing over him. He jumped up and looked around. "Uh, about the me-" "Get up. Clean it. Or так помогите мне, the dads will be hearing about the party escapade. Понимаю?" Angry, but ever afraid of the threats against him, Germany stood up and stretched. He walked over to Ukraine and shook him awake, then starting to picking up pizza boxes and plastic, red cups. Russia ran upstairs to change, lace up his boots, and pull on a sweater before heading out the door. Ukraine, broom in hand, shouted at him. "Where do you think you're going? It's barely a quarter til seven! " Russia gave him a cold look. "Just keep cleaning, party animal".

He set off at a brisk pace for Voilà, the best variety restaurant in town ran by the best cook, Italy. It was five blocks farther than the cafe, and every second would count. If only he didn't have to wake up over 25 hung-over countries. If only his brothers knew better...

America had gotten to Voilá twenty minutes ago. He was antsy and anxious, and he wanted, no, NEEDED to talk to Russia. He tapped his foot on the pavement outside of the door, his eyes darting around until he found a focus- the country he was waiting for. He jumped and straightened himself out as Russia neared him. Russia halted to a spot in front of him. He looked at the sidewalk. "After you".

The two sat down at a window seat. Russia couldn't make eye contact, and America stuttered for words. The smaller of the two sighed. " Look, that little... Thing. It was a prank. A bump in the road. I shouldn't have gotten in your bed. That's right... Right?" Russia hurriedly nodded. "Y-y-yeah. That's all". Now it was Russia's turn to speak. "So. I... want to know where we stand". He leaned back in his chair. " I'm under the impression that we're acquaintances. Am I correct, or do you see otherwise?" America looked down. "Oh... Uh, yeah. Nothing special. Barely know you". He stood up and pushed in his chair. "I know that breakfast isn't here yet, but I've got to get going". He was hurt- it was obvious. "No, I didn't mean it like-" "No, no, I get it. You didn't do anything wrong, man. I'll... I'll see you at work on Monday". He walked out without saying another word or taking another glance. Russia stayed and ate alone- but he had long lost his appetite.