Zubicu- a Hetalia fanfic.

Chapter 33

I walk up to America, and slap him across the back of the head. "Dude, calm down." America stops laughing instantly, straightening up.

"Sorry dude, but that was too funny!!" he exclaims.

I roll my eyes. "Alright, alright. C'mon, let's go get something to eat." I say, walking into the kitchen.

*le time skip*

I sit at the table opposite America, leaning my cheek on my hand and resting my elbow on the table. I watch him as he scoffs down an obscene pile of hamburgers. Big Brother's the type of person who hardly ever takes anything seriously.....It gets kinda annoying after a while. I think.

"Hey dude, whatcha starin at?" America says round a mouthful of hamburger.

"You." I say flatly, gesturing a hand toward him. "You've got a huge appetite. It's no wonder you're putting on so much weight."

America gives me a hurt look. "I'm not fat!"

"I never said you were." I say simply, closing my eyes.

"Yeah you did." America mumbles.

"No, I said you're putting on weight. I didn't call you fat outright." I growl.

"You did just then!"

"You idiot, I was making a point! But obviously you're either too dumb or just too blind to listen!!" I exclaim, standing up. My chair makes a loud screech as it gets shoved back and nearly falls over, making them both wince. "Ugh, I'm outta here." I snap, storming out of the room.

I walk into the kitchen and get a kituna fruit out of the fridge, munching on it as I walk straight through the tiled room and out the back door to the back garden. Slamming the door, I walk to the back left  of the garden where I have a patio. On it is a swingseat. Attached to the top is a wooden log, long enough that it can hang down to be in line with my knees, yet which I push to a sort of balcony-like thing I made for it so it stays completely out of the way.

I push a button on the side, taking the balcony down and allowing the log to swing down. I then sit down on the swingseat and shuffle over until I can hit the wooden punching log I suspended from it, now hanging down in front of the swingseat. I repeatedly punch it until my hands are sore, each punch relieving me of a bit of stress. When I finally stop my knuckles are bleeding slightly. I ignore it, and just lie down on the swingseat on my back, rocking gently back and forth, munching the kituna fruit. The blood from my knuckles gradually trickles down and mingles with the taste of the kituna fruit in my mouth.

The metallic taste of blood mixed with the sugary water brings a crazed smile to my face.

I hear footsteps approaching, then stopping in front of me. As soon as they stop I snarl, looking up to see Canada standing there, eyes wide. Some of the blood must've gotten round my mouth somehow. Grinning, I smile at him with red teeth as I sit up, only for his eyes to widen even further. "Z-Zubicu, y-you're bleeding!!" he stutters, stepping right up to my side and kneeling down in front of me, taking my hands and placing them on the ends of my lap. Quickly, he begins to bandage my knuckles. Where did he get bandages? Maybe he just carries them on him on the time in case someone gets hurt. Certainly he seems to prefer healing to fighting. I snarl at him, but don't fight him. When he finishes he stares at me. "Wh-what did you do?"

"America pissed me off, so I came out here and punched the log I hung up there to take the stress out. Don't worry, it happens all the time." I say simply, shrugging. "Normally it's someone like Russia, but America's just such an idiot, sometimes I can't take it. Even I have my limits." I explain, sighing at the end. Canada strokes my hair gently, sitting me up so he can sit next to me. Once he does, he leans me into him. I feel the anger has left me, just being replaced by a lot of sadness, so I let myself be leaned against his side as he wraps an arm around my shoulders comfortingly.