Book 2 - The Angel Against Revolution

XXVI - Grinding

America stays attached to Russia, which Russia is grateful for. Most of the other residents glare at him with flames in their eyes. The others that had seen the incident looked over in pity.

Russia trains his eyes on the ground.

'Maybe I shouldn't be here.'

America looks at him with a loving smile, but Russia still can't help but notice the intense anger from the states around him.

'But I can't leave Stars here alone. He needs my help.'

Russia's gaze returns to his shoes.

'I love him. I can't just disappear.'

Russia swallows back the lump in his throat and America tugs on his hand to get his attention.

'But the idea is tempting.'

Russia looks up and forces a smile. America sighs before lying down, putting his head in Russia's lap. Russia freezes in place.

Rage fills the air, and Russia feels apprehensive. Nonetheless, he forces himself to return the affection. He carefully threads his fingers through America's hair and America picks up one of the blankets and pulls it over himself.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks, looking away from the others in the room.

"Yeah, I'm okay," America says, "I just want to cuddle with you. You got a problem with that?"

Russia vehemently shakes his head. America smiles. Russia looks up again and sees the children staring at him, but instead of anger, their eyes are full of confusion.

"Just go along with it," America mutters, "they'll figure it out."

Russia nods numbly. America shifts, leaning into Russia, and Russia leans against the wall next to him, draping his arms around America's shoulders. America props up the papers for Russia to see and Russia tries his best to read along.

He's pulled out of his concentration by a strange shrieking noise outside. It sounds distant. Russia's head pops up and he tries to concentrate on the noise. The states talk loudly among themselves, so Russia can't hear anything. Russia slowly stands up. America sits up.

"What's wrong?"

"I heard something outside."

America hums. Russia puts on the cheap jacket and offers a hand to America. America reaches up to take Russia's hand but misses. Russia gets ready to just grab America's hand when America shakes his head.

"No. I need to figure out how to do this by myself," America says.

It takes America a few more tries to manage to brush fingers with Russia. The delight that lights up his face fills Russia's stomach with happy butterflies. America reaches a little further and grabs on, and Russia pulls him to his feet. Russia leans over and grabs his scarf and wraps it snuggly around his neck.

America smiles. Russia leads America outside, and he sits down on a step. America sits next to him.

Shrieking rings out from the trees. Russia's hair stands up.

'Except it doesn't sound like shrieking.'

"What is that?" Russia mutters.

"I don't know," America mumbles, summoning his scythe.

The sound rings out again. Now outside, it sounds more like a high pitched metallic noise, like metal grinding against itself.

Russia backs up into the door, and he hits it with his fist with a loud thud. Then, he walks along the wall, feeling around for a weapon. His fingers find the end of a loose pipe, which Russia pulls up and hosts onto his shoulder. The pipe is heavy, a lot heavier than Russia had been expecting, and it smells of iron. The rust is rough under his fingers, and the metal is cold.