Saudade | CountryHumans RusAme

CHAPTER 6: The Art Of Alliances

RUSSIA
He had to admit, ever since China had told him of the entire 'Master Plan' — which he so affectionately named it — school at Global High wasn't the same anymore.

He always felt a sickening feeling whenever he attended class, knowing that all of the education was more or less towards nothing. He would clutch his stomach, nauseous, whenever the professors spoke — for in his eyes, their basically godly presence was sullied with the atrocities of what was now oblivion. And, in the moral senses, it drowned out the annoyance of having to be not a complete jerk to America — it was just more important. Was he the asshole? Perhaps. But this wasn't a Reddit thread, and that capitalist was every bit of a nuisance as he was.

So slowly, he, with his friends, had begun planning escape. Because as his father, Soviet, had told him, in drastic circumstances he would take drastic measures.

He didn't know where the phrase came from. Soviet would tell him, and Belarus, and Ukraine, the same motto yearly, and every time, they still couldn't understand why.

★

AMERICA
When the school bell for dismissal rung the next day, America left as many of his books in his locker as possible, for he knew he wouldn't be going to his own house today, and he tried to not think about who's house it would be instead.

He met up with Ukraine and Canada, who were lovingly sharing a cup of iced coffee, and left (but not without a teasing comment about marriage) immediately to go find South, Japan and Poland — who were still cleaning their things up after their last class in Historical Sciences, a workload-intensive course located in the Microcosm Library. After helping trash the scribbled papers and pencils sharpened beyond use, the four of them made a mad sprint across the halls for the cab they had called.

"Sorry!" Poland called after he bumped into Hungary, who gave him the bird and disappeared into the masses of leaving students.

"Jeez, who shat in his cereal?" he muttered.

"Language, Poland," warned WHO as she made a futile attempt at crowd control.

"Sorry," Poland said again, making mocking faces behind the teacher's back, and Japan had to exaggeratedly swerve away from Fiji, a sweet girl who always had her eyes glued to livestreams of ocean explorers, to stop herself from doubling over in laughter.

"Oh, here they come." From the road across from the door of the school, Ukraine shook her head. "Like a horde of bulls. Could they be a little more graceful?"

South and America started doing ballerina movements.

"Forget I said anything," Ukraine sighed, putting a hand on her boyfriend's leg to stop him from giddily joining his brother. "Let's keep them in jolly spirits," she said under her breath. "Waltzing in like a bunch of madmans."

The car slowly made its way across bumpy roads, pedestrian crossings, and, as the map read "2 minutes to go," an outrageous amount of Chinese restaurants.

"We don't even have this many McDonalds near our mansion," America complained. "Overconsumption, if I'm being honest."

"You're one to talk!" Canada shrieked.

China's house was large. For one person, very, very large. The guy probably got lost in it daily.

The outside was a deep shade of red, taking on the form of traditional Siheyuan architecture, while occasional flashes of gold adorned the doors and handles. Like all Imperial Chinese houses, the ornate-tiled roofs had upturned eaves that looked, with its scaled patterns, oddly like horns. Fresh grass, blooming flowers, and a flourishing water fountain in the middle finished off the look, but one thing stuck out — the whole place was oh-so-red. Yet, thankfully (or America would've left at the eyesore), it wasn't a bright red, but rather a dull maroon that went quite well with the gold and black.