An Espresso shot

2

(3rd POV)

After lecture, Ukraine slips out of the class like a slug. She's tired and just wants to go home but unlike high school, the day doesn't end when the class does. She grumbles under her breath as she slinks down on one of the funky chairs scattered around the University building. As she aimlessly scrolls her phone, a pout on her face started to form as she recalls the day at the coffee shop. 

She looks up as her closest friend, Poland, comes swinging by. He's holding a couple of building sticks in his hands as he walks. His bag sling over his shoulders, seemingly heavy. His eyes sparkly as he's getting excited to tell his best friend about his day. With a nudge, Ukraine pushes herself to make room for him as he plops beside her.

"Listen to this-" Poland starts but Ukraine plasters her hand over his lips, making him silent.

"No, me first." Ukraine interrupts and pulls her hand off his lips and wipes her palm against her shirt. "Guess who I met on Saturday in the coffee shop." She continues, asking to make Poland engage in the conversation.

"I don't know, Jesus?" Poland shrugs and she shakes her head, used to his unserious comments which doesn't match his scary scar across his face.

"No, I met Canada!" She exclaims with a deep furrow.

"Ooh, Canada." He plays along and nods by her words. "Who the hell is Canada? Do we hate him?" Poland breaks the facade and Ukraine pauses.

She has never talked about Canada at all. They've only exchange orders and hellos. But this time is different, Ukraine will have to tell this whole story about how she found this abandon coffee shop which sells pretty good espresso shots. Oh! She would also have to tell him about how she ordered two shots instead of one. Her life must be going downhill for that to happen.

"Canada is the server boy of the coffee shop." She nags on, as if Poland secretly knows about him. But with his constant shaking of his head, she goes on to explain the situation. 

"So, you're mad that someone is smarter than you?" Poland concludes and crosses his legs over each other to sit in a more comfortable position.

"No, I'm mad that a server boy is smarter than me." She corrects her dearest friend.

"You don't know his background, why should you care?"

"Because he's smarter."

"I'm smarter than you."

"I'm not counting street smarts."

A silence falls after their bickering. Both looking at each other with an annoyed expression that the other one isn't taking the others perspective. But with their long friendship history, bickering was bound to happen. Whenever it did, it only brought them closer. 

"I should bring you along, one day. Then you'll see the problem." Ukraine exclaims and sighs, leaning her head against his shoulder for some comfort. In return, he rests his head against hers.

"Hmm... Or maybe you should go to the psych ward. Maybe you're crazy." Poland mumbles and Ukraine rolls her eyes in a playful manner, not taking his words seriously.

With how much pain Poland has gone through, his humor really strived. Ukraine was sure that Poland was much better off as a witted comedian than studying civil engineering. But what comedian would strive with a scary scar across his face. That's why he always find a job as a scary clown for haunted houses during halloween. 

They all have their own problems, but they make it work. Somehow.

The traumas don't end with just them. Canada in return takes long runs in the forest. Doesn't matter the weather, raining or snowy, foggy or burning hot, he'll make it work. He always does. Slipping his headphones in, the loud beats making his brain focus only on his veins pumping. With no goal but to run until he collapses, his eyes gets dizzy after hours of running.

He returns home, sweat dripping down his face like a fountain. His pants dirty from always slipping at that one muddy spot. He fumbles with his keys, his limbs shaking and his lungs hard to capture and release air. He pauses when the door opened from the inside, his older brother who works a day to day job opens for him.

"Thanks, Ame." Canada sighs out and took a step inside. His clean freak brother stares down hard on his dirty shoes and the younger brother quickly takes them off. 

"Why can't you run in the park, you smell." America rants out and took a step back to let his taller brother in. 

"I know I smell." Canada breathes in hard as he pulls his Under Armour shirt off his body. America closes the door and is staying clear from touching Canada in his sweaty state. "But the sun gets too harsh in the park. They literally cut down the trees, no shade whatsoever." Canada explains in a patient manner.

America stays quiet as Canada pulls his headphones off, placing it on the kitchen counter as well as his phone. Canada likes the feeling of getting sweaty, it makes him feel new, especially with a cold shower. To scrub off that old self with water running over his face, it was calming. The loud water ran through his hair feels like a waterfall, hitting his body with full force to make him forget everything. 

To a certain point... They always come back to haunt his head.

As he steps out of the shower, shutting the water to make sure no drips falls out of the faucet, he dries his thick hair with a hair towel. Another bigger towel is wrapped around his waist as he goes to his room. He makes sure to not leave a trail of water behind him since he doesn't want to deal with his older brother's nagging. 

His room is a typical room for his age. A bed; desk; bookshelf and closet. His walls full of posters and old drawings he kept during his childhood. He slips off the big towel and simply throws it on the back of his chair. He wears a simple blue shirt and grey pants since he isn't planning on going anywhere soon. As he fixes his belt, a knock happens outside his door. A hum as his answer, America opens it. 

"I need to talk to you about..." America starts but looks around the messy state his room was in. But he shakes his head and decides to just stand outside his younger brother's room. 

"About?" Canada questions and he takes a seat on his chair, spinning to the side to face his brother.

"About your job." America continues and tries to hold in the want to fix his brother's room, clothes and books and papers everywhere.

"What's wrong with it? I'm getting my money, and I quite like it there." Canada argues softly and turns back to his desk, seeing the receipt ticket on the table.

"I know, but it's run down. It doesn't seem that the owner is doing anything about it." America talks back and leans against the doorway, crossing his arms across his chest. "... You should go to University. If it's the money, don't worry, we have-"

"I don't want to." Canada says sharply, his right forearm resting on the desk as his hand picks and lets go of the receipt. "I like it there."

"But your knowledge is getting no use." America raises his voice as his younger brother is being stubborn. "Don't you have a weird fascination with numbers? Don't you want to go and learn more?" 

"I have enough books for that." Canada's voice goes quiet as he whispers, gripping the receipt in between his index and middle fingers. 

"But-"

"I'm interested in math, yes, but that doesn't mean I'm interested in the jobs offered if I pursue it." Canada sighs out as he got up from his seat, the receipt falling to the floor as he lets go. "I'm going for a run."

Canada avoids the confrontation like the plague, going for yet another run when he just came back home from it. America tried to stop him but their shoulders bumped roughly, an indication from Canada that he isn't in the mood to fight. Canada grabs his light jacket by the door and his headphones, the bass vibrating through his body as he closes the door behind him.

America stays silent for a moment, staring at his brother with slight anger in his eyes. He turns back to his room, he gives out a heavy sigh as he starts to clean it for him. He picks up the folded receipt, ultimately throwing it in the trash beside his desk.

{A/N}

Don't take this book seriously.