RusCan: Russia's Depression.

Chapter 2

"Yes Canada?" He said, his voice low and tired sounding. It was almost painful for Canada to see him like this, he seemed worn out. His usual smile was gone, and Canada was worried about his fellow country. His face was emotionless, hard to read. Russia's dull purple eyes glared, waiting for a response from the smaller country. Canada finally gathered up the strength to say something.

"America and I are meeting up today and I thought you might want to come along," he says quietly. Russia's eyes showed a hint of happiness and a little smile emerged on his pale face. He was delighted at the idea that maybe he would make some friends. That's all he wants now. Friends. "That would....be nice Canada." His voice low. Canada's eyes lit up, someone remembered his name. "Alright Russia, we can meet here at around 7:00?" "Da," the Russian just replied simply. The smaller turned around saying he'll see Russia soon.

Russia watched him go. He felt something inside him as he watched him go. Something nice. Happiness maybe? He wasn't sure, but he knew it wasn't gonna be a feeling to stay, there was still quite a few hours to himself he would have to himself surrounded by his thoughts and the thought brought him back to a sour attitude. When he saw the other was completely out of site, he began to make his way home. He thought to himself as he walked back, the snow deeper than earlier and the wind chillier than before. He wrapped his scarf around himself tighter and to wear it would cover his nose. What if Canada didn't actually want to hang out with me? He thought to himself. But what if he actually wanted to be his friend, even after all the times I forgot he was there and I sat on him? Maybe he's planning to get back at me? He wouldn't do that, Russia knew. Canada was smaller than him anyway, and his brother wouldn't help him out much if he was planning on that. He sighed as his house came into view. Almost there, he felt relieved to see it. Soon though, memories would come back to him.

He stopped in front of his door, taking out his keys that jingles softly and a few tears came to his purple eyes. Did he really want to enter his thoughts before he would go back to see Canada? What if he did something he'd regret. He shook his head unlocking the door and walking in. The smell of vodka hit him. His house was still a giant mess. He sighed deeply. He didn't like this. His thoughts returned, which he knew that would happen. Grabbing his head and tugging his hair he growled. "Why can't I just get rid of these thoughts?!" he fell to the ground, tears falling faster down his face. Why? The word echoed in his head, eventually bringing on a headache. It didn't matter, he was still going to wherever Canada and America were going. Finally someone at least invited him somewhere. That calmed him down but he still had his doubts about it. They probably wouldn't remain friends. After calming more, he wiped the rest of the tears of his face and went to the bathroom. Once he entered he looked at the spot where his only friend was hidden at. He took off his scarf and coat, revealing the bandages around his neck and arms, slightly stained from the cuts from this morning.

"I have to change these," said as he unwrapped the ones around his arms, wincing a bit as he did so. He wouldn't have to get rid of the one on his neck, they where just scabs, but he kept it there incase his scarf didn't cover them. Sighing again as he finished, he wash his face, brushed his hair, and made himself look a bit more presentable. He smiled ,slightly, at himself in the mirror. He just realized how tired he looked. Slight bags under his eye could be seen if inspected closely but it wasn't bad. He shook his head and closed his eyes for a second before putting on the smile he always would. He scoffed at how easy this was. To hide under a mask, concealing his depression, sadness, and anger under one simple smile. One. Simple. Smile.

Soon, 6:40 rolled around, and Russia was out of the house, walking through the snow once more. There wasn't wind, it wasn't snowing, but it was winter. It was freezing and the only sound that was heard was the crunching of the snow beneath his feet. It was a bit cloudy, but the moon was visible in the dark blue sky, stars beginning to be seen blotted against the sky like white paint splatters on a dark shirt. Russia smiled. For real. Who wouldn't at this site? He huffed and he watched as the puff of air clouded in a small poof in front of him, drift a second, then disappear.