Say I Love You (Hetalia RusAme)

(Russia xAmerica) Part 5

"Remove it"

"[Huh!? What hell are you saying!? I'm not taking it off!! It's too cold for this shit!!!]"

"Just take off your damn shirt America"

"[NO!!!]"

This was a rather difficult way to start off the day. I got America up early the next day and lugged him into the bathroom as I got the tub ready. I rolled up my sleeves and prepared for the worst.

"America you haven't taken a bath in almost about a week"

"[No I washed my hair in the sink]"

"I meant your body dumbass"

"[I'm not taking a stupid bath!] Uh- Waa-!!!?", America shrieked as I forced him out of his shirt and he tried to shout "Prr-!! Per-!! Ert"!!! (He's trying to shout "pervert" :D )

America scribbled all over his notebook that I could barely make out his written words. I became impatient and grabbed the notebook and the pen and threw it out the bathroom door, I then grabbed him by the neck and kicked the back of his right foot forward and he slipped and landed into the tub with a big splash.

"Uh- Ugh! *cough**cough* Ahh!!", he coughed and gaged a bit on the water but once he got his head above the surface and panted heavily a little I knew he'd be fine. I sighed and walked out picking up the pen and scribbled paper. I looked back at America who was holding his throat while gasping and glaring at me, and replied "You can have this back once you're done, but until then wash up and be quiet".

Like a child America smacked the water in frustration as I closed the door and left. He sunk his head under and let himself soak in the hot bath water and after a short while he popped out with a towel around his neck and his damp clothes shoddily put back on. He crossed his arms and walked up to me at the table stomping his feet.

"Ahh-! Ugh-"!? America held his throat in surprise and then slowly looked down at his feet desolately.

I pulled the notepad and pen out of the front of my sweater and handed it to him "You might want this back"?

He took it back still looking down sadly. I laughed at him and said with a cunning smirk "It's intriguing about how easily we forget things when we become impulsive"

Grinding his teeth with antagonism, America carved two words boldly into the paper and threw it at my face.

"[FUCK YOU!!!!]"

Sitting at the other end of the table, still greatly annoyed, America scribbled a little on my table and then again in his notepad. I wandered into the kitchen and prepared a nice hot bowl of stew and placed it in front of America.

America looked up at me still annoyed and wrote "[What the fuck is this?]"

"Just eat it"

"...." America just stared at it silently and glared at it as he was intimidated by it. I grabbed the back of his chair firmly and spoke harsh words of encouragement.

"You know just as much as I do America that you need to at least eat something considered sustenance".

Becoming tense, America looked away from me too shaken to see me face to face, so I got closer and made sure that he heard me. I whispered in his ear and asked "What scares you more America? The thought of dying, or enduring just a little bit of pain"?

It took a moment, but America grabbed his notepad, wrote down his thoughts quickly, and slammed it on the table. He then quickly took a spoonful of stew and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed and looked up at me irritated as I read what he had written.

"[The inevitable truth]"

My mind was cluttered with concepts and theories of what America could have meant by those words. He chewed and chewed almost like a cow and he was going rather fast for having not eaten something so solid in such a long period of time. I wanted to tell him to slow down, but he suddenly stopped completely.

"-Ugh"!?

"America..."?

It was just like when he noticed his voice was gone, stopping completely, so scared he began to turn pale, and his body stricken and frozen by fear. America rested his forehead on the edge of the table and tightly grabbed his throat with one hand and covered his face with the other. It was as if he was telling me; no, begging me not to look. I knelt beside him and watched as his face cringed in pain. He shook his head as if he was shouting; No! No!! No!!!!!!

"America..."?

"Ugh! ....Mngh"!!

While covering his mouth, America shoved me out of the way and dashed into the bathroom. He hung his head over the toilet and instead of consuming more food he lost more than he had when he woke up.

"Ugh! ...Uh"!

".......", I stood silently in the doorway to the bathroom and watched. America wiped the corners of his mouth and slowly looked back at me with his eyes becoming watery. He gripped his fists tightly; got to his feet and tried again and again, and again, but anything that America ate that wasn't near to liquids just came back up.

Stubbornly trying to hold the food down America kept trying, but in the end it was useless. With dribble dripping from his chin he gripped the sides of the toilet, and placed the back of his hand over his eyes and tried to stop himself from crying. I approached him but he did not dare look at me with such shameful eyes.

"America..."?

"Ngh"!

I softly called out to him and attempted to lightly tap his shoulder but shoved me away. America didn't want to be seen by anything that had integrity and could judge. I stepped out and closed the bathroom door and leaned against it with my mind scrambling to elucidate the sentiments that awoke within me.

Is this what America meant by the inevitable truth? Knowing the possibility that the fact that the only way to live now was starve and wither away slowly? Knowing that no matter what he did he could do nothing to preserve the time that inevitably doesn't stop for anything? Dying, unless it was as a hero, was never America's style. So maybe, just maybe the inevitable truth isn't his fear? Maybe it's the fact that he'll have no choice to accept it?

In that one moment of thought I asked myself "What am I afraid of? What was it that I was forced to accept? Hmm...? I can't remember..."?

~To Be Continued~