Sticky Notes And Trinkets(Rusame)

Call Outs and Being Called On

America just watched, surprised that their teacher wasn't really retaliating. Though he had to admit, it was a bit cathartic to see the teacher be snapped back at.

Mr. Weatherly had been antagonistic towards him the entire year so far, and he wasn't really certain why. He hadn't done anything as far as he knew, just done his work and scored high in the class. He didn't say anything, just hoped that the teacher wouldn't take being called out, out on him.

He watched quietly as Russia, the person who'd made it fully clear he didn't like him nor wanted to interact with him, got the stuff that Mr. Weatherly wanted to hold him after class to get. As per usual, the teacher was making a mountain out of a molehill, as all he needed to hand over was a packet of paper and the textbook. The packet of paper was presumably a syllabus.

The rest of the class went fairly normally until the teacher started asking questions to make sure they knew about the topic. Instead of leaving America alone, he started picking on him in particular saying stuff like: "You have the highest grades in the class, you can answer this?" or "How about you America?" when he hadn't raised his hand. His voice was also so very condescending whenever he addressed him.

God America wanted to leave, to simply not exist in that room.

The worst part was that if he didn't answer, the teacher would put the pressure on him even more, making it feel like a failure if he didn't speak. So he forced himself to respond, every time getting a "could you speak up a bit, I can't hear you." even though all he'd done was stutter, he was fully comprehensible otherwise.

When the teacher had pulled this stunt on him about three times, he heard someone else speak up. He hadn't been expecting anyone to, but was even more surprised it was Russia speaking up. As far as he could tell, Russia hated him.

"Are you fuckin deaf? The little shit is answering you very clearly, just move on with the class."

America relaxed himself a little, luckily the teacher listened to that. He was a bit disappointed Russia didn't use his name, but was thankful the other stepped in.

He guessed that it showed how little the other liked him. Maybe he could get the other to view him more positively, maybe he could make the other small gifts and such. Maybe he could put them in his locker, he wasn't quite sure the other would take them. He didn't want another person who'd physically harm him.

That's what happened with someone he'd thought was a friend, he'd sewn them a blanket and given it to them. Instead of thanking him for the gift, they'd punched him and gone off at him for having such a "girly" hobby.

He didn't really have a reason to think Russia would be like that, but he didn't want to find out. So that was the safer option.

He'd tell Russia it was him when he found out that the other didn't hate him. Or maybe when he could find that the other didn't mind "girly" hobbies like sewing and knitting. There was also the possibility he'd never tell them. He'd have to give himself a deadline if he planned to ever say anything. But he decided he should play that by ear. If he felt it safe to tell him, he'd tell Russia at the end of the year.

He grabbed a bracelet he'd been planning on giving Russia directly, but he supposed he'd be putting it in the other's locker. He'd have to see where that was first. It'd likely be a bit since the other probably wouldn't stop by it if what he said earlier were true.

He could wait, he was patient. He was patient, and so very quiet. Possibly too quiet; if his classmates, siblings, teachers, and friends were to be believed. Though, he had to politely disagree with all of them, sure his choice of silence was mainly out of crippling anxiety that made reaching out to another feel so very scary and so very hard to do- but he preferred to think of it as a preference for serene and quiet.

He could only fool his classmates, family, and everyone else, but never himself. The quiet left him too much time to think, to reflect on how much of a screw up he was.

He snapped himself away from that thought, slipping a hand up his sleeve and snapping a rubber band against his arm; reprimanding himself for that train of thought.

He was trying to get himself better about not thinking about that, those thoughts could easily send him into a downward spiral. And he knew those tended to hurt his family, as they were noticeable to them.

He shook himself away from those thoughts, hoping this class would come to an end soon.

Eventually the bell rang and all of his classmates got out of their chairs. Mr. Weatherly was trying to keep everyone from leaving, with his logic of "the bell doesn't dismiss you, I do".

America personally, didn't like the idea of spending more time around the originally black haired teacher who was going gray, so he opted to get up and silently follow what his classmates were doing.

He grabbed his bag and silently walked out of the room, looking around for a second to spot Russia- he wanted to see if he'd get to see the other's locker, or if he was out of luck.

He watched as Russia stopped by a locker, opened it, and put the textbook in it. Once Russia closed it, he got a look at which one it was so he could go by it later. He looked at the number before going off to his next class. He stopped by his own locker, knowing he had the time to do so before his next class. He put the books from his previous class in the locker and took out the ones for his next class, putting them in his bag before starting off to his class. Though he'd felt someone's eyes on him while he retrieved his bags he couldn't tell what intention the person looking at him had, but he knew he didn't like being perceived.

He didn't like the uncertainty he felt while the person was looking at him.

He quickly got out of the area, really wanting to get away from the area. He made it to his next class and slid into his seat quietly, wanting to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He got out his book for the class, and the homework, which he'd done in class the day before.