Candy Stars || Ruscan ]

Part 2

Russias mornings were nothing like Canadas. Where Canadas started at 4:30 AM Russias started at 1 PM.

He didn't work at a big studio making hundreds of dollars an hour, oh no, he worked at a small thrift shop making little to no money, living paycheck to paycheck almost every month of every year.

He didn't have thousands of fans. Nor hundreds of admirers flocking around him just to smell his scent and feel his presence. Nor look at his face and faint in awe as he looked back with a charming wink and a kiss blowed gracefully through the air.

Only for it to pierce right into their heart and fill them with so much dopamine he could be considered by science an addictive chemical. He had no friends, and his family rarely ever visited him, the only time he saw them was when they wanted a favor and he was their last resort.

He usually took a very hot shower, threw on whatever clothes he could find, which was usually just a black sweater and jeans. (Which made up his entire wardrobe..) Before he headed off to work either on foot or by air via his large dragon-like wings.

Today was different though.

He woke up at 8 am and then to his disliking couldn't force himself to fall asleep in his bed, which had no sheets, only a crinkly mattress protector. It was also hard as rock, like someone had chiseled away at a large boulder until it was the shape of a mattress and then sold it to him in some form of villainous trickery.

Since he couldn't sleep he took a shower early and to his absolute horror the hot water wasn't working, which meant he had to take an ice cold shower.

He rushed to finished his shower, swearing that the water was taken straight from the coldest pool in the Arctic.

He stepped out onto his bath mat and dried off very quickly with a fluffy towel, eager to get all the ice water off of him.

As he was putting on clean clothes he glanced into the mirror, observing his reflection as he liked to do every now and then.

Russias hair was almost pure snow white, but it faded to blue at the very ends and had thin red streaks randomly throughout it. His eyes had a swirling mix of vibrant warm colors, oranges reds and yellows that looked like burning glass balls which contained red hot lava inside them, almost as though staring into them too long would blind you.

He had goat-like ears on the sides of his head, but one way they differentiated from your average billy goat was the red shimmery scales that were on their outside while their insides were pale pink and felt almost velvety to the touch.

His horns were cracked, and obviously had suffered from use in the past a multitude of times. His left horn had the entire tip missing as well as multiple good chunks along the rest of it. His right one wasn't nearly as damaged somehow, only having a few small cracks and scratches. His horns weren't shiny at all, the opposite in fact as they always looked very worn.

He called out sick of work despite feeling perfectly fine and not really needing to miss work considering his financial situation.

He didn't really care for others emotions much. While Canada cared deeply for peoples emotions and loved to see people happy around him Russia did not. That's how people always treated him so he returned it.

Which explains why Russia has no friends. And why his family would want to avoid him. Yet Russia himself couldn't seem to catch onto this painfully obvious factor, and never understood why so many people could ever dislike him so much...

This in turn made his ego very small. If you had his ego in your hand as a physical object and were to compare it to a healthy, happy persons ego his would look like a shriveled up dried pile of bones without so much as a crumb of flesh on them next to a large, plentiful, delicious, and very filling plate of juicy medium rare steak.

As he finished all of this, he flopped back down onto his bed, cringing as it crinkled like a giant plastic bag and sighing miserably.

He hated every aspect of his life.

Suddenly just as he felt himself actually managing to drift off into slumber his phone dinged, causing him to jump a bit. It was a reminder that he needed to get groceries.

He slowly got up, dragging himself over to his bedroom door as he unenthusiastically made his way to his front door.

Today was going to be a long, painful day.

And nothing would make him feel any better about it.

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Edited 1 time on 11/21/22 to fix minor mistakes