Light of Mine (RusAme)

Chapter 17

Ame's P.O.V (Cursing, violence, and maybe some fluff) (Picture is not related to the chapter)

I watched as the tall Russian stalked into the room. He immediately went over to the couch and plopped down onto it, a slight mummer of relief followed him.

I stole a glance at his face, albeit a short one. His eyes were drooping, and he looked almost calm aside from some dark circles that lingered under his eyes.

"Hey, Russia." His eyes opened and trailed lazily over to me, then he grunted. "The work staff person came over today and brought in some more groceries. The note that he left said that if we wanted more, we should write them down and tape another note to the door."

"And, vhy arrre you telling me zhis?" He half-heartedly asked.

"Do you want to come look at the groceries that he got, and write down one's that you want next time, or not?" Russia rolled his eyes, but, nonetheless, came over to look at the groceries.

Russia's eyes scanned over the items, before they stopped and sharpened on one item. "Мне нравится этот парень." He murmured almost hysterically, as he picked up a vodka bottle.

I rolled my eyes in my head, of course the addict would go for that first.

"Is there anything else that you want? Maybe something for the fridge?" I pestered, as I gestured over to the silver cooling machine. His features morphed into a slight frown.

"Нет, I am good." He quickly dismissed. "Vell, zhere is one thing." He quickly scanned the room for a note and something to write with, he eventually found a note card and a pen. He speedily wrote something down and walked away. He settled back on the couch and opened his phone.

The room fell into a tense state. It wasn't pleasant, and the atmosphere was certainly on it's last legs.

I wanted to start up a conversation to end the tourture, but each time that I tried, he gave me either a one-word answer, or he said nothing at all. It was frustrating.

"So, what's your favorite color?" I started.

"Желтый." (Yellow.) He reciprocated.

The room fell silent yet again.

"Do you have any pets."

"Да." (Yes.) He dully told me.

"Oh, cool. What are they and what's their name?" I queried. I was genuinely curious, for I had a soft spot for animals,

"Девочка русского черного терьера по кличке Валерия." I didn't understand a lick of that.

"Could you repeat that, I didn't quite get it?" I questioned.

"I am sorrry, I zhought zhat you vere an, uh, experrrt on Rrrussian." He snidely reminded me. "I zaid, a girl Rrrussian black zerrier named Valerrria."

I nodded my head. "Nice name."

He looked up slightly from his phone, "Zhanks."

My roommate and I once again became encapsulated in a bottomless pit of our own fortitude.

I wanted to ask him another question, but I didn't know what to ask. My mind was running a blank.

While I tried to conjure up a question, he started to speak. "Америка, do not even zrrry zo starrrt up anotherrr converrrsation. I am getting zirrried of it."