America's POV:
"Ame, we need to talk," Canada said with a slight frown. I sighed and agreed. He led me to a room with Mom, Britain, Aussie, and Kiwi. I sat across from them. Britain spoke up, "Son, I know we aren't on the best of terms, but you should've told us about your hardships." I cross my arms and huff, "Well Britain, I don't need your help I ran away at 15 and started my own nation, had my first child, dealt with my depression and suicidal thoughts, and raised 59 kids by myself. I don't need help, I deal with my problems myself." I gritted out. Mom looked a little worried, "Amérique, s'il te plaît, parle-nous." (America, please talk to us) She said, worried. I sighed, "Nous n'avons rien à dire." (we have nothing to talk about), I said. I got up and walked out of the building. While down the steps of the building, I tripped and fell on the country I was supposed to be helping. Russia.
Russia POV:
I was just minding my business when I felt someone fall on top of me. I groaned a bit as they hit my freshly cut arm. I turned to see America. My heart started to pound at his close proximity. "Америка?"(America) I said surprised. I still hated the shorter man, but I even couldn't deny his good looks. He groaned in response, "Sorry, man." He started to walk off before stopping suddenly. "Russia, I have a favor." He stated. I raise an eyebrow. "What is it Америка?" I asked. He stretched the back of his neck. "Your father wanted me to give you something before he died. I will take you to my house tomorrow to give it to you." He said before hurrying off. Why would my father leave something with that capitalist pig? I hurried home so I could drink away my thoughts.
America POV:
I quickly rushed home. Why did I make up that lie? The Soviet Union suddenly appeared in front of me. "Give him that one photo album." He said. I nodded and set off to find the photo album.
After searching for the book for 30 minutes, I finally found it under Confederate's uniform.
YOU ARE READING
APUSH kids on crack (A Rusame story)
FanfictionCredit to the artist: My friend wanted me to write this skibidi story, so here is a story. America is a tired dad, and Russia is a suicidal alcoholic.
