𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬《 Philippines CountryHumans AU 》

xii.

TW //  Manipulation, Implied Suicide, Mention of Abuse

The chair broke into splinters as it hit the wall, knocking over bottles of whiskey and beer. Philip inhaled sharply, breathing heavily. His eyes darted across the room, hands grabbing the nearest bottle of wine and throwing it at the wall.

Russia watched, eyes softening as the younger country drew a wine glass and smashed it on the floor. He sighed, silently standing up and walking over.

"Philip..." he said softly, standing next to him. He lifted his hand, gently caressing his face.

Philip snapped his head at him, pulling away from the touch and backing away. "How- how do I know you're not lying?! What you said isn't true! Martial would never do that!"

"Sunshine..." Russia looked at him with a pained expression. Philip shook his head and bit his lip. He didn't want to cry. He was done crying. So why? Why are there tears in his eyes?

"Tell me Russia! You're lying!" He yelled, slamming a fist at the bar table. "You're lying, you're lying, you're lying! You don't know Martial like I do!! You don't- You... you're lying...!"

He sobbed, roughly wiping his tears. "You're- you're messing with me...!"

Russia pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on Philip's hair as the country desperately tried to pry him away. His salty tears stained Russia's sweater. After minutes of fighting him away, Philip gripped his clothes, burying his face further into his chest to hide his tear-stained face.

"Martial would never...!"

"I'm sorry sunshine. You-... you weren't assassinated.

You killed yourself."

____________________

Martial rushed to the gambling room after having heard of rumors between his butlers that it had been trashed by Philip. He slammed the doors open, looking around in horror at the state of the place.

The wallpaper had been teared, glasses and wine bottles shattered on the ground. Large tables were broken in half with a chandelier lying tattered as it bore through the floor. And in the middle of it all was Russia, who was comforting Philip.

They heard the door open, and Russia instinctively hid Philip behind himself. Martial saw a glimpse of Philip's face.

It was scared.

His baby brother... was scared of him.

"Phil- what the hell happened here?!" He looked around once more, not believing that his soft-spoken brother would do such a thing. "Did something happen?!"

His eyes landed on Philip's hand, bloody from the glass shards that pierced his skin. He rushed to him, hands extended out. "Are you oka?!-"

"Not. Another step, Martial." Russia stood in front of Philip, using his hand to shield him.

Martial looked up at him, confusion evident on his face. "Russia? Wha- what the fuck happened?"

"He knows how he died. He knows you caused it," he responded, hardening his gaze.

Philip didn't know what happened next. Everything went by so fast that he felt as if what had happened was just a hallucination. A dream. Or perhaps a nightmare.