Random Countyhumans relationships and friendships

Achievements [🇷🇺]

The dreary and dark environment that looked over Russia's room had him consumed in grief. As he slurped a strand of his noodles, he looked up at his teddy bear - the teddy bear that Soviet Union had given him, and one of the only toys he hadn't snatched back and handed to Ukraine or Belarus - which he had seated on a hand-made chair on the table.

"Папа, I..." Russia started, but his voice faded off before it could ever become a plausible sentence. Even looking at his stuffed toy made his heart ache. "I... I- did it... Папа..."

"Boy, I told you not to hit girls!" Soviet Union would exclaim. Russia would always retaliate with, "But she hit me first!" otherwise something of similar wording. Still, Soviet Union would scold him endlessly. Russia never listened, but his father somehow held hope that perhaps he would change eventually. The punishments grew worse as he passed from middle school.

Russia never got to hear his father tell him that he was ever truly proud of him. He stared at the teddy bear as his eyes watered, before breaking down.

"Папа, I did it... I'm- I'm the second best in the whole world... please..." Russia sobbed, dropping his head into his arms. "I..."

Russia couldn't bring himself to continue helplessly mope about. It wasn't enough, he wasn't number one. He was still under the one he resented most. He remembered being such a nuisance of a child - especially as he reached his adolescence.

It is incredibly difficult to manage a child in adolescence. One might have a horribly similar past as their child, but it is still quite tremendously strenuous. The plump and full cheeks, large dewy eyes with eyelashes that flutter when they blink, the innocent beams they give you with tiny lips and red blossoms on their cheeks - those are enough to excuse their inexperience with the melancholy complexities of life.

But when the inexperienced rodents grow to be of four-teen, they become unbearable. They begin to have skin problems, begin to be more influenced by their peers rather than a reliable source such as yourself, start being horribly lousy and rebelling. And when they start aging to six-teen years, they become only worse. They would start dating, drinking, smoking, and you would be unaware of it until their educator would catch them. And their ways of speaking become indiscernible - they use eccentric dialect that not even the sharpest of linguists might understand the oddities of.
At least, that was to Soviet Union. 

Dealing with his eldest son was torture. The boy had grown the habit of complaining about how cold his dinner was, despite quite often appearing late to dinner himself. He would pick fights with girls in his college, get himself into trouble and argue with his father over silly things. Soviet Union was sure that one day he would drown his sister and swipe her grave-stone, some-day. Despite his efforts to toughen the boy's soft heart, he remained rebellious and cynical of his own father. He slacked in his education, too, spending an hour a day with his peers rather than bettering himself for the future.

Meanwhile, Soviet Union had his own struggles - the boy he had raised like a son of his own, pulled from his boot-straps a walking testimony of his prosperity - China, had vanished. He was no-where to be seen. The boy he had raised from adolescence, gone over-night. That too, his bane-of-existence, the United States of America, was prospering over him, and it, the situation, seemed dire. And all of his stress was only amplified by his one unruly son.

But to his unruly son, stress accompanied him like a reaper. Where he went, it followed, and those about him cursed it upon him so frequently he would consider it a friend. It was an ugly thing, repellent to hear, hideous to see, and fatiguing to meet. It would shake your hand like a madman, and greet itself into your house unprompted. It would make the bed, and you would lay on it. Yet this waif of a boy found solace in it.

Russia saw good in it - it wasn't as hideous as pride, it wasn't as disgusting as envy, and it remained humble without boasting. It made sure to remind him of those qualities every waking moment. Even then, he knew he couldn't trust it more than his father, so he did his best to make up for the holes in his personality by copying his father, but it always reminded him to not be proud and envious.

However, the more Russia acted like his father, he only seemed to hate him more, and it was more accepting of him. He became so unsure, that he gave up trying to copy his father at all. He knew his father was dealing with the loss of his student, the one he treated like his son, and was struggling at work, so he kept to himself. He started taking more company with his close friends. However, he soon grew impatient and started asking his father to spend more time with him, only to result in Soviet Union yelling at him to not argue. He decided to continue waiting, he was sure his father would come back to him one day.

Russia sobbed endlessly as he laid his head down, not even the stuffed bear gave him any sort of reassurance or joy. It perhaps kept him company, but not joy. He was still lonely. He had so many friends, but he was still lonely. His food began to become cold again. He no longer felt hungry. He was sure he could hear the sounds of his father still yelling at him to never waste his food.