Whispers of Sunlight

Chapter 3: Panic

         American soil always gave Russia disgusting feelings. He felt as though he were walking on eggshells; everyone stared at him wide eyed, their features never hiding their fear of his foreign looks. Russia blinked his eyes and smiled at a small child whom was giving him a look of pure curiosity. The child instantly began to weep and the violet eyed man nearly ran from the small being.

            Feeling unsafe for whatever reason, Russia went to grip his faucet that he kept with him at all times. Gloved fingers itched to feel the cold metal, signifying his security and his place in power. This faucet had protected him for as long as he cared to remember; fighting off anyone who threatened him and anyone who dared to stand in his people’s way. If something threatened Russia’s people, he would become an unstoppable force as long as his weapon of choice was in his grasp.

            The pipe was gone.

            Feeling around his pockets, Russia could feel anxiety bubbling within his usually stable fortress. Eyes widening in panic, he sent out an aura of ‘don’t touch or talk to me’ as he searched several times. His back stiffened with fear as he realized that his one form of protection was simply missing.

            He thought quickly and calculatedly, trying to remember where he had last laid hands on his weapon. Thoughts of the plane bubbled to the surface and he nearly tripped over himself as he ran, the fear and feral-like way he moved scaring any sane person out of the way. Dashing quickly up the steps to the stationary aircraft, Russia felt his breath coming in gasps.

            He searched the entire vehicle before giving up on this location. Perhaps it was somewhere else? Thinking quickly, Russia recalled everything after the plane ride; sitting on the vinyl chairs, getting up and gripping the pipe warily, walking down the steps and being greeted by an officer. The pipe may be in the office where the meeting took place. With every country in the world; including those who would rather not see him around any longer.

            With a heavy sigh, the Russian stepped off the plane and began retracing the corridors; searching for the meeting room with a heavy heart. There wasn’t a possibility of it still being underneath the desk; not when Latvia had been under there as well. Perhaps the smaller nation had taken it back to his house for him? Were they not friends who would do things like this for each other?

            Russia hung his head sadly. No, he and Latvia weren’t friends. Sure, they lived under the same roof for a very long time; but Russia may have been a little… rough around the edges. It wasn’t his idea to suddenly start throwing insults about his attire around like they were a juggler’s playthings!

            The pipe was not here either, just as he expected. With a sigh and a shudder, the silver haired man examined the room more thoroughly; noting how all the flags of the world adorned the walls. Walls that were made of a lovely cherry would color; pillars formed from the same wood and supported the room. The floors were a lovely shade of red carpeting, complementing the desks of darker oak wood. The only thing wrong with the room was the overly compensating American flag hanging over everyone’s heads as a reminder to whose country they were in; because they needed the reminder.

            Russia thought hard and placed a gloved hand on his desk to settle himself. Maybe someone had it who DIDN’T want him dead. Always think positively, da? Suddenly a loud burst of energy exploded into the room, leaving Russia gasping for air and grasping at his heart.

            “RUSSIA, I THOUGHT YOU LEFT HOMIE!” Oh… it was him again. Russia sighed heavily before a thought occurred to him; sending him in a near fit of rage. Of course, America would be the one to have his most precious belonging.

            “You are to return what you have taken!” Russia spat angrily, like a mountain lion hissing at a bear. He felt his old habits rising as an unnatural purple aura appeared like a vapor. The American man’s smile faltered for a second before he started laughing like the idiot he was.

            “What are you going on about, man?! Have you lost something? Did you try backtracking and looking, oh I dunno, in your own freakin’ country?!” Russia smacked his hand across America’s mouth. He couldn’t handle it anymore; he just needed the loudness to stop existing, if even for the tiniest of moments. If America didn’t have the pipe, Russia would eat dirt!

            “You are to return my pipe to me this instant, filth!” Russia slammed his foot down on the blonde’s foot, making him shout out and trip over himself. Glowering and raising his foot, Russia stepped on America’s back, not allowing the other man to get off the floor. “Give to me!”

            “I don’t have your freakin’ pipe! Lay off! I said lay off!” America glanced up at the crazed man above him with a slightly panicked expression. Russia sighed and felt his chest deflate. Making a small noise of distaste, the Russian quickly left the office, ran out of the building, and boarded his plane. He sat down on the black vinyl chair and waited, head throbbing, until his idiot of a pilot got back from whatever it was he was doing.

            Russia didn’t care who had it; he just needed it back.