Too Cold To Be With You // Countryhumans RusAme

Chapter 8 - My Reply

I wondered for the longest time at the nearest bus station if it was a good idea or not for me to leave America behind on his own. He should be asleep right now anyway, so the worry over him finding out where I was going was probably unnecessary. At least, that's what I wanted to believe.

I looked up, as the cold air nipped at my skin, but felt so oddly normal to me that I barely even noticed it. Glancing at my phone, I saw that it was almost 22:00. The train station shouldn't be far from here if I remember correctly, and if I board it now, I might have enough time to make a full round trip before it's morning.

I nodded to myself and ran there as fast as I could, my feet crunching underneath the sound of the melting snow. While pacing myself, I contemplated over everything that had happened today. I hated to even consider that I actually enjoyed the day with America, much less accept the fact that talking with him was actually quite fun and amusing, despite his occasional American idiosyncrasies.

I haven't told him yet, but I've actually remembered quite a lot from what I could tell. Most of what I remember, however, was from decades ago and from my early childhood; I remember a lot about my siblings and my father, especially. More recent history, however, projected to me as more of a blur to my mind—events which felt like only mere dreams that may or may not have occurred in reality. 

America wouldn't understand my need to see my family right now. He made his objection to it quite clear today after all. But they felt like the only part of me that I had left—the only piece of the puzzle to my identity I had to go off of. I needed to go see my family because, without them, I feel more like an empty shell, rather than a nation. America wouldn't understand that, and oddly enough though, I respected that. Ha, I must've gone crazy, right dad?  I smiled for a moment before my expression dimmed to a solemn shadow when the realization finally hit me.

I think I get it now.

America might not feel or understand me because everyone he's ever loved or been connected to haven't disappeared from his life yet.

I've always hated the idea of loving others. I suppose I picked it up from my father when I was younger. He convinced me that it was a waste of time, that everyone we love will eventually die alone anyways. But for me, it was because it caused so much internal pain to love someone else.

It's not like I wouldn't have gone out to see my father, even if America did know about it, but the thought of us arguing again just tired me out, so I decided that going out while he was asleep was the better option. I suppose that's strange for me to think since we've always fought when we were younger, and I'd be a lier if I said that I didn't semi-enjoy our pointless bickering back then.

Now that I think about it, I don't think he's actually changed much since then. I mean, sure, he might be much stronger as a nation and all, but at least I didn't carelessly pass out in the evening as if I was a small child.

About twenty minutes passed before I hopped onto my first train. There was still a hefty amount of people occupying the train station, and after looking around a bit, I noticed that most of the occupants were made up of either old people or those who looked completely drunk off of their feet. I sighed, moving around them carefully and held on tightly to the hand railing. I also pulled my scarf up to cover my face, in case anyone was looking in my general direction.

The contrasting silence of the trip to the busy day I had today made it seem quite peaceful actually. I thought over everything I remembered about my father before I would go see him. Questions arose in my head to ask, as the echoing of the train movements filled my eardrums.

It was almost midnight when I arrived, a quite quickly trip actually, I suppose, but from the looks of it, I knew I wouldn't be able to go back until morning. I only hoped America wouldn't go looking for me when he finally realizes that I'm gone.