Stalker | ThirdUnion

29: Scheme... Successful?

Almost two months.

Reich sighed deeply as he sat on the couch, his head to his knees as he hugged himself.

Two months he's been stuck here and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

He was trying, he really was, to go along with his little plan.

He's been getting up early, to make Soviet breakfast, and maybe lunch or dinner later in the day sometimes.

He tries to clean if he can, and do whatever he needs to do to make Soviet believe him.

For goodness sake he's even tried looking ahead in the Russian's stupid wedding plans. He was really trying. He seriously was.

Though he had done well in being a 20/10 housewife, Soviet still seemed a bit on edge with him.

Reich could never guess what was going on in that man's bean sized brain.

Sometimes he would be all sappy and thankful for Reich or some crap like that.

And then sometimes, he wouldn't say anything. He would just stand there, and stare at him. Like he was lost in a trance or something.

Reich could never really make anything out of it, but he was still trying. And he was hoping he was closer to getting out of here.

But for now he was stuck, and it sucked. But he was doing whatever he was supposed to.

He was a bit worried about the next steps he would have to take to get his plan into action.

The fear he had when he thought about actually, willingly kissing Soviet just to make him believe in him was astronomical.

He could write a whole book just based on his feelings in this stupid situation. And perhaps by the end of that book he could write himself killing Soviet, which actually didn't sound like too bad of an idea at the moment.

Eventually Reich got tired of his thoughts, and lifted his head from his knees. He looked around the living room silently.

The windows were covered in frost. You could barely see out of them. Reich stared at them for a moment before looking away.

The German got bored quickly, and took the remote off of the coffee table and turned on the TV, he flipped through the channels for a while before deciding he was just going to watch Netflix or something, sure.

Soon enough he was chilling there, drinking his bitter tea as that was the only thing he could swallow at the moment, while watching some cringy movie.

It was almost a quarter till five, or for people who don't understand time, it would almost be 4:45 in the morning.

Reich stayed silent as his movie played. His mind was off in lala land as he sat there. But he wasn't tired, he couldn't sleep.

He was very stressed about this plan. It seemed like it was working but every day was pushing him closer and closer to snapping.

Hopefully it will work. Hopefully.

The German placed his empty mug down, the sun was now shining it's rays out of the window. And now Soviet was the one who would be waking up alone in bed.

The Russian's loud footsteps could be heard from a mile away. Reich glanced at the stairs, trying to mentally prepare himself for his new acting role as perfect housewife #2.

Soviet got downstairs in what almost seemed to be a hurry, his posture was stiff, his eyes looked around the room quickly, he seemed to be looking for something.