Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Changing

Enjoy a short chapter on USSR's point of view. I decided to mix things up a bit. 

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Picking up all those little shards was hard. It was a shame to have to break such an expensive object. I could replace the glass later, but I had to fix the interior. Why couldn't my father keep his mouth shut? No, he has to stick his fingers into every bowl and remain on top at all times. I didn't actually think when I threw the knife. I was so angry to the point at which I couldn't bottle it all up. I had to destroy something. I have to admit, I cannot bring myself to harm my father, no matter how much he harmed me. After the clock fell, I felt infinitely better and the burning madness in my stomach was replaced by emptiness and hunger. I ate the remaining cake without saying a word. Next to me, I felt Germany struggling not to bolt out and Russia started at the wall in shock. Both of them shouldn't have seen this. I tried to act as if I didn't care. Inside, I was filled with guilt and I wanted to apologise. My father's breathing as coming out in short and jagged gasps. I wanted to say something but he didn't let me.

"Have you lost your mind?" He said slowly, standing up cautiously and then almost running up the stairs, slamming the door to the room behind him. Russia quietly offered to clear the table for me and he started without my response. Germany, still half paralysed with fear, took some plates, but his hands shook with fine tremors.

"I have." I whispered to myself as I picked up the fine little shards. "I have lost my mind. A long time ago." When I stood up, I wanted to go and put the little pieces into the trash, but I stopped. I saw them. Russia and Germany in an embrace. My breath hitched, and I felt like I was back in the war all over again. Silently, without attracting attention, I slumped down on the floor and groaned softly. No, Russia, I thought to myself. My logical mind told me that Germany wasn't his father and he wouldn't ever betray anyone. But stigma still reigned and I kept retelling to myself what I've told Russia one million times. Trust is dangerous. Trust is dangerous. Trust is...dangerous. When they left the room and went upstairs, I went to a drawer and got out a toolbox to repair the internal mechanism damage. The whole time I thought about my father's words.

"I thought you hated when your children step into relationships without your say so." Came the haunting voice in my head. I had to shake it off. There was no relationship. They're just too different.

"Senile old man." I muttered under my breath. He embarrassed me completely in front of everyone and expected me to just shrug it off. Why does he care about my children and not about me? What is wrong in me that he doesn't like? What, that I 'stole' his government? Well, he hated me before that. He told me I murdered my mother. I couldn't have, I've never known her. All I know about her is the old painting in my father's palace and the little granite rock jutting out of the ground in a field. Now all he likes to do is put me in the light and break my image. What good would it do if I come out and tell everyone everything? That's right, none. I will live out my life in quiet suffering now, and then I can peacefully fade out of society and wipe my face off the map. Soon enough. The fine dust from the glass was flowing all around me and I had to open a window to let all the awful dust ridden air. After a long and frustrating time of fixing the clock, I stumbled over to the living room and searched the desk near the entrance. Wait...didn't I give up drinking? Yes, I did. No comfort in getting drunk then and not now either. Why was I even sad? I had to stop for a moment and stepped outside on the snowy doorstep to clear my head. I didn't know what I felt anymore. I have to arrange my emotions like a computer file. Life has become hard for me. Without Russia at home to spread out the workload, I have to balance out my actual job, the governance and domestic duties. I only get paid for my actual job, and the rest is free labour. Last time I left the country for a meeting, Britain joked if I wanted to donate my car to a museum. I thought that wasn't funny at all.

"Why don't people leave me alone?" I asked no one. The snow made the sky lighter and the low air pressure made me feel sleepy. I locked the door twice, even though we were in the middle of nowhere and for some reason, I flopped down onto the carpet instead of the couch. I didn't move after I made myself comfortable. How would my father react tomorrow was giving me nighthawk. Eventually though, I fell into a turbulent sleep where I dreamt of being chased by everyone I've ever loved or wished or cared for. The scariest part was that they all took the form which I last remember them being. Then it all disappeared to be replaced with darkness.

"Papa," I heard a whisper in my ear. "Why are you in the floor?" I recognised Russia's voice. He was bent over me and rubbed my back affectionately.

"I just fell asleep that way," I groaned, slowly getting up.

"Oh, okay," he stayed kneeling on the floor, lost in thought. He looked up at me with his strange lavender eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes....no." I didn't want to lie or scare my son.

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Is it a yes or no?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"Never mind!" I heard my voice rise. Russia bent his head low and said nothing more. Again, I felt guilty and went to hug my son. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Papa, why don't you try to find somebody to live with," Russia reasoned.

"I cannot."

"Why? You'd be happier."

"No." I said firmly. "I wouldn't. I loved your mother, but she left me. That's all."

"Didn't you love somebody else afterward?"

"That is a different story, Russia." I broke out embrace. "One that you're too young to understand."

"I am not. I'm eighteen." He protested. "Legally an adult."

"Legally. But not mentally." I told him. "You won't understand, Russia. All I can say to you about that is that trusting is a dangerous game to play. I advise you to see all the points before you decide." I understood that Russia was confused with my cryptic speech. I was afraid that if I told him directly, he might reject everything. Maybe when my father leaves us alone. Speaking of said Tsar, he was climbing down the steps very carefully. He flinched when we made eye contact.

"Good morning grandpa," Russia said the first words.

"Good...morning," the other replied. He abandoned his grandiose look for a white shirt and flowing long pants. The amethyst still was visible even underneath the clothing.

"How did you sleep?" I asked.

"Badly," he looked away from me. "I was terrified the whole night." The surprising thing was that he was telling the whole truth. He didn't even make a single lie. Amazing. We heard the door click upstairs and Russia leaped away to see what was going on. I was left alone with my father. He looked at me with some doubt. "To put this in simple terms: I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Sorry for last night."

"I'm sure you are." I sighed. "But I don't want to hear it. Don't act as if you want to be fatherly all of a sudden. Because it won't work. I'm already too used to you being the way you are. I trusted you once, when I was little," I could see that he wanted to change and last night proved that he wished to father me all over again. "But you broke my trust. How can I hope again? Maybe soon, but not now. Definitely not now." He nodded, and left to the room with the glass walls. I went to heat up something for breakfast. Russia came down with Germany and tugged at my sleeve, asking they could help somehow. I told them to start a fire. "In the fireplace." I hurried, before they got any ideas. "We're not going anywhere. Might as well do this." They laughed and set off to collect the firewood from outside. We'll see what happens, but I'm sure luck has to turn my way sometimes, right?