The past comes back to haunt

Chapter 5

August 10th - 10:24 AM

The morning sun had just begun to chase away the shadows of the night as Russia, still in his majestic dragon form, perched atop the roof of America's house. The shingles were warm beneath his claws; the air filled with the scent of a world waking up.

The sound of the sliding door opening reached his keen ears, and moments later, America appeared on the roof. He moved with a deliberate calmness, his eyes fixed on Russia's towering form.

Russia's eyes fluttered closed, and when they opened again, he had taken on a form that was a blend of dragon and human—still formidable, yet more familiar.

"What do you need, Meri?" he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Don't call me that," America grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "I just came up to check on you."

"I'm doing just fine, звезды," Russia assured him, his gaze softening. "No need to worry about me."

America's eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of concern and curiosity in his voice. "Who... who were those people attacking you earlier?"

"Dragon hunters," Russia said, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a storm yet to break.

11:54 AM

America stood at the kitchen sink, the clatter of dishes punctuating the silence as he cleaned up after lunch. The sudden warmth of Russia's arms around his waist was a stark contrast to the coolness of the porcelain. America pushed him off, walking out of the kitchen towards the living room. Russia followed.

"Now's not the time for that, Rus, my mom's coming over," America said, "she could be here any minute."

"So? We can't keep our relationship secret forever, Америка."

America turned, the snap in his voice like a whip crack. "I know that, but this isn't the time!"

The doorbell's ring sliced through the tension. America's steps were quick and decisive as he moved to answer it, leaving Russia to settle into the quiet of the living room, the weight of their secret hanging between them.

Moments later, America reentered the living room, the soft rustle of fabric announcing France's presence behind him. As they settled onto the couch, Russia stood, his departure as silent as a shadow.

France's eyes, filled with maternal concern, met America's. "Is he okay?" she asked, her voice a gentle murmur.

"He's fine," America assured her, "we.. had a bit of an argument before you got here."

As the afternoon light filtered through the windows, America and France shared stories and laughter, the years of separation melting away in the warmth of their reunion.

4:23 PM

The door clicked shut behind France, and America watched through the window as she made her way to her car. A sound behind him broke the silence of the house. Turning, he found Russia, his posture rigid, eyes narrowed—a clear sign of his irritation.

"Is everything okay, Rus?" America asked, concern threading through his voice despite the rush of emotions.

"We need to have a serious talk," Russia stated, his tone offering no argument.

America felt a twinge of frustration, the timing couldn't be worse. "Not now," he said, "I've got plans with Canada down by the lake. You can come along, if you want."

Russia's voice cut through the air, sharp with annoyance yet underscored by a note of something else—something more vulnerable. "What are you so afraid of?" he demanded. "You keep insisting we keep our relationship a secret, and avoid any conversation about changing that."