It's Not Over (RusAme Story)

Chapter 12- The Project

CHAPTER TWELVE

~America's POV~

I sit up groggily, rubbing my head, which feels like lead. My mouth is dry and parched. I open my eyes halfway only for the light to burn my over sensitive retinas. Agh, where are my sunglasses?

"Looking for these?" A familiar voice floats over to me.

"Do I look like I can see anything?" I retort rather moodily.

I hear Ireland's laughter from the corner of the room and recognize the previous voice as his. "I think she's fine if her attitude's still there. If it wasn't, then we'd have a problem," he chuckles.

"Is now really the time for jokes?" There's Germany's voice, worried as usual.

"Sorry, sorry, I was just trying to make light of the situation! Sheesh."

"Give her the glasses already." I can practically see my brother's concerned and exasperated expression.

"Okay, okay," Ireland says, and I soon feel my sunglasses being pressed into my palm.

My fingers curl around them and I slip them on gratefully, their familiar presence calming me. The world comes into focus and I have to blink a few times but I'm fine.

I run a hand through my tousled hair and survey the room, realizing just how many countries are here to make sure I'm okay. My heart warms at the thought of all these countries caring for me. Nice to know some people aren't fake and actually care.

Ireland stands next to me with his arms crossed and his typical smirk on his face. Germany is in a plastic chair, his bright blue eyes looking relieved. Next to him is Ukraine, who is fiddling nervously with the laces of her shirt.

Japan is perched on the end of the small cot I am lying on, tears shining in her dark eyes. She notices that I can sit upon and instantaneously, she throws her small figure upon me, thin arms encircling me.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you're okay!"

I pause, taken aback before smiling. "Me too."

Canada looks angrier than I've ever seen him but he comes over and envelopes me in a meaningful embrace nonetheless. His dirty blonde hair is ruffled and the glint in his eye reveals that he won't be forgiving Russia anytime soon, but then again, neither will I.

I shiver and rub my goose-bump covered arms. When he threw himself at me-- it was like it was happening all over again. The paralyzing fear, the aggressiveness, and powerlessness. I hated feeling like this.

Ukraine suddenly seems to notice I'm awake and it's as if she snaps out of a trance. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

It takes me a second to realize that she's talking about Russia. Her wavy brown hair is also tousled and her blue-gray eyes are wet from tears. I then realize that when Russia ignored her earlier, it scared her nearly as much as it had scared me.

"It's okay," I reassure her, even though it most indefinitely is not. It is not okay that Russia attacked me, but I'll pretend like I'm fine. That's how I've always survived anyways.

"How long have I been out?" I ask Canada curiously. Hopefully I didn't miss too much of school.

"Nearly two hours," Germany replies matter of factly. 

"WHAT!?" I quickly start to climb out of the cot, but everyone immediately rushes to my side.

"No, you need your rest," Germany urges and the others agree.