Gold Blood

Prelude: один

Heyyy, working on a new chapter

Soviet is awake and America visits along with Fin. He feels super bad about almost dying and then is told he's gotta do a drug test, which he feels nervous about because he in fact was not clean. and had a bit of alcohol before the incident. But not enough to make him black out.
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Soviet

He groaned softly as he tried to sit up. biting his bottom lip. His arms hurt like hell. It took a while for him to realize where he was. A hospital...alone. He hated hospitals but he hated being alone a lot more. He lay in bed alone, forced into his horrid thoughts of guilt. What was he thinking? Just being so reckless and almost getting himself killed? God, what would Russia think? Or anyone...?

Finally, someone had come in, Finland. Just the look of exhaustion on his partner's face was enough to make his stomach twist in more guilt. Soviet felt the need to throw up. He was very good at hiding it, but couldn't bring himself to look at Fin. " You really worried us..." Fin finally spoke, " Why did you do it...?" Fin mumbled.

"...I don't know..." Soviet rasped, coughing softly at how dry his voice was. How long had he been asleep? " How long have I been out?" Soviet managed to ask, looking back at FIn.

" Five days," Fin bluntly said, handing soviet a glass of water. Thanking Fin, Soviet had started to drink the water like he hadn't had any in days. Which was true, after all, he was asleep for five days. Fin only watched, which Soviet didn't mind.

" Please tell me you weren't high or drunk..." the statement was so quiet he almost missed. Soviet looked up, confused and a little hurt.

" What...?"

" Soviet please...were you drunk or high...?" Fin repeated, almost desperate. It hurt so much more than Soviet would like to admit.

" No, I was not drunk or high" Soviet finally stated, huffing softly, " I had one shot of vodka before the-"

" Jesus so you were drunk?" Fin interrupted a look of hurt and disappointment on his tired face.

" It was one shot, no more than one. And it was an hour before, that couldn't have been the cause-"

" How do you know? I thought you were done, you could have gotten yourself killed and you sit here saying this like I'm supposed to believe you?" Fin blurted, wiping a tear from his eyes. " You could have died, Soviet...you hurt us all...and what about Russia...? the poor boy will neer forget how he found you" Fin continued, his face returning to his exhausted form. Soviet stared at Fin, staying quiet. He sniffled a little, looking away.

" Get out..." Soviet finally mumbled, just wanting to be alone. He didn't need to think about the pain he caused by having one drink. who knew one drink could get him killed?

" Soviet-"

" Get. Out." Soviet repeated, a lot more aggressive. A warning. He couldn't deal with them continuing to tell him how horrible he was for what he did. He'd already had his own brain to do that. Fin gave a sigh before leaving, closing the door behind him. Finally, Soviet could be alone. Despite his dislike for it the quiet and absence of people were peaceful. Perfect. Until the damned nurse came to draw blood. Soviet huffed, sticking his hand out for her to draw it. He hated this part. Mostly because of his fear and discomfort with needles, which had gotten better over the years. He groaned at the sharp but bearable and just uncomfortably waited for her to finish. When she did he finally let out a breath.

He hummed, waiting for her to leave before fully relaxing. He hummed, just laying back down. Looking at the tiled ceiling was horribly depressing. He honestly wished he had something much better to do, but one can't have everything. He supposed he deserved it as punishment for almost dying. Something felt off though...horribly off. How the hell did he even get in that situation? He wasn't drunk or even on drugs. He was completely sober and had only been cooking dinner...what the hell happened?
After a while Soviet simply gave up, on trying to find an answer, simply closing his eyes to rest.