Too Cold To Be With You // Countryhumans RusAme

Chapter 9 - Our Last Moments

"Um, can I?"

America has been waiting outside in the cold, watching the entire scenario between Russia and his father unfold before his eyes. Something urged him to stay back from running after Russia when he suddenly took off like that. He definitely didn't look like he wanted to be confronted, so America peeked in to maybe ask his father about what had happened instead.

"Yes, just close the door behind you," USSR solemnly sighed.

With the click of the sound, America glanced around the apartment. "Hasn't changed much I see," he observed.

"No, it hasn't."

The room decor was mostly made up of old posters and newspapers from the past, some of which America still remembered quite well. It was strange to see everything still here, however. After the breakaway in 1991, Russia moved away from this apartment but then claimed it later, so it was kinda surprising for him to see it still uphold it's original design.

America bit his bottom lip. His tongue wouldn't allow for him to say much. Even from just observation he could tell that whatever news his father had told Russia weren't pleasant ones to hear.

"Can I ask?"

USSR sighed again, "It doesn't concern you—"

America argued back, "It does concern me, and if you think I'm blind as to not see that then you're wrong." He trembled a little in grief. Seeing someone he loved so much in so much constant mental pain felt like such a huge burden on him. It weighed on America's heart every second he witnessed it. He just wanted it all to end already.

The USSR raised a brow, not in a state of confusion, but almost like he was surprised to receive that response from him. America noticed Soviet's gaze then relax, and as if he could read his mind, and it looked almost as if his eyes spoke for him, 'It's going to be all over really soon.'

It could've just been his imagination though.

"It's me," Soviet said quietly.

America relaxed his stance, a habit he adapted from fighting with him for so long. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Unraveling one of his bandaged arms, USSR showed him a long-kept secret. He looked down at his fragmented skin with a smile on his face, like he's been waiting for this to finally happen. "It's been too long to hide this anymore," he explained.

America interchanged between multiple facial expressions while looking at his former-enemy's flesh fragments in the midst of breaking apart. He should be feeling a sense of victory of some sort, as his government said he should be, but he couldn't help that a different emotion overtook his mind instead—one of sorrow, not pride.

Maybe it was because he knew now why Russia was so upset when he suddenly ran out, or maybe it was all those long-gone forgotten memories he used to cherish. Good person or not, USSR did raise his son whom America loved dearly, after all. Sure, he's hated him for a lot in the past for what he's done or represented, but he never wished death upon him as a person.

"I'm letting it happen finally, but I don't think Russia took it lightly," USSR said, breaking the silence, and glanced towards the other side of him. America's eyes followed his, where a small framed picture barely stood up on its unstable leg; it was a picture of their whole family—all sixteen of them, in fact. USSR sarcastically laughed at the sight of it, "I bet it's a party for you though, huh?"

Conflicted with his emotions, but still strong with his belief, America said, "You let this happen to yourself, dude, don't forget that."

"I'm not a fool as to not realize that, America. Thank you."