Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Information With Kaz

Kazakhstan POV

“Қар жаман емес. бізде уақыт жеткілікті (The snow isn’t bad. We have enough time.)” I told Belarus as she worriedly looked out the window. Yes, the snow was hindering the view of the outside world but we have dealt with worse snowstorms before. And my little bro was only a drive away, we would be fine.

“калі вы так кажаце,падобна, усё можа пагоршыцца. (If you say so, it does look like it will get worse.)” She voiced her concerns once more. I smiled playfully and nudged her shoulder, trying to get her attention away from the window.

“Кәне. Ресейдің жағдайы жақсы екенін көрейік. (Come on, lets see if Russia is okay.)” I finally got her away from the ever mounting snow and she begrudgingly followed me. He had been with that American ever since he stopped by. I could tell what had happened out there at our dad’s grave was intense, just by the red still in Russia’s eyes and the lightly frosted tear trails when he had came in. But as we always do with him, we never ask. He never answers us anyways.

As it has been, America was practically up Russia’s ass. Sitting so close behind him on the couch they were basically cuddling. I would never say that out loud, Russia would string me up by my wings if I did. So Belarus and I have been talking about it behind his back. How America is wearing one of Russia’s sweaters, a brown one he wore a lot that he hadn’t in awhile. Now we knew why, he gave it to the country that he must have a crush on.

“Wassup there Angel Boy!” America greeted me with a cheerful smile and a wave. I smiled back just as enthusiastic, if not more and gave him a little fluff of my wings to advertise my name.

“Wassup Ame!” I greeted him in English. I never really bothered to speak that language, I had no use for it. Everyone I knew spoke Russian, or something similar, and I was very fluent in it. But lately I’ve been trying to branch off and make new friends with other English speaking countries and I have been trying to learn. Too bad its so fucking hard!

“What have you been talking about?”

Russia looked down at the book in his hands, one of his bigger red hands covering the cover. He’s had that since he and America had came inside and has refused to put it down. And he wouldn’t let us see it neither. “Nothing,” he settled on looking back up at me, shoving the book into his pocket. It didn’t take a genius to know what that word really meant.

Still, even with that dull look in his eyes, I didn’t say anything. I knew better.

“Мы скоро уйдем, поэтому, если вы не хотите, чтобы Каз или я брали какую-либо еду, вам лучше пойти и потребовать ее сейчас. (We are going to leave soon, so if you don’t want Kaz or me to take any of the food you better go claim it now.)” Belarus joked, using her thumb to point behind her to the kitchen. For a split second, me and Russia eyed each other. Everything stood still, the world had froze. Tension suddenly spiked as he jumped up to his feet and I started to race towards the kitchen.

“Бұл менікі! (This is mine!)” I quickly soared over the kitchen table to grab a container full of Beshbarmak.

“Ты трогай мои пельмени, я оторву твои перья. (You touch my Pelmeni, I will rip off your feathers,)” Russia held his chosen food away from me and bared his teeth like they were fangs. I hissed at him, flaring my wings.

“Did you just fly over the table, what the fuck!?”

We both turned from our standoff to see America had ran over to the kitchen, Belarus slowly drawing behind.