A Fucking Mess ミ RusAme Countryhumans ミ

8

America laughed and ate some of his ramen. "Does this count as a talent?" He asked with his mouth full.

"Sure whatever"

"Yay!" America swallowed his bite of ramen with a dumb grin on his face.

Soviet got up and then headed back to the house he felt like something wasn't right he opened the door "nazi" he called out

There was a dull silence. It...felt uneasy, nerve-racking almost.

Poland's heart panged. He felt uneasy. Tension rose in the air, and he spoke, 'Wh-what's.. Happening to me?'

"You're so stupid, i love it-"

"I think you might have depression. But that's alright. I'm going to help you, and we can get you a therapist if that's what you need."

"I know you do." America kissed Russia, at a bit of an odd angle from how he was being held.

He nodded, and replied, 'M-maybe..'

"Maybe... to what? The depression, or the therapist?"

'The th-therapist..' he said, looking up at Germany.

He walked through the House and finally saw him his heart dropped he saw the blood on the carpet and he didn't know what to do with the body

Germany nodded. "We should find one. Do you wanna do that now, or maybe later?"

'Later, I guess...' he sighed, clutching his arm again, closing his eyes. Poland went to sleep, this time without a dream or nightmare.

Russia pulled Amercia onto the couch and cuddled him "aaaa"

'Bitch stained my carpet' - USSR//

((Love of your life kills themselves, gets mad at the blood stains

"Damnit my fucking carpet" ussr 2019 june 28 6:13 pm

Germany looked at Poland, but didn't stare for too long, as he felt like he was being creepy.

America smiled and nuzzled against Russia's chest as he often did.

"I love you, Shortie!"

"I love you, too, Commie!"

"Id never expect you of all people to say that...huh"

"Did- Was that mean?" He asked, looking up at his fiance.

"Not at all, Just..- Im just thinking, thats all."

"Oh! Okay!" He readjusted back to how he was before he looked up.

~ some smol timeskip ~

Germany typed into his phone. "I'm trying to find any therapists in the area. There seem to be a couple of them."

Poland nodded, listening closely to Germany.

"Oh! Canada's a therapist! I... didn't know that. Should we call him?"

He smiled, 'Sure, I guess.'

"I'll do it for you, if you want."

'Please do.'

Germany nodded and called the number. "Hello?"

Canada picked up and smiled "Hello!"

He stayed silently, waiting for his friend to reply.

"Hi. I... uh, have no idea how this whole therapy thing works. I think... I'd like to schedule an appointment?"

"Oh, Okay! Name and address please?"

Poland bit his lip, nervous. He didn't neccessarily like it, but he had to.

Germany moved the phone away from his mouth. "Should I put your name and address or mine?"

He nodded and put the phone back to where he had been holding it. "Uhh... Germany..." He listed his address as well.

"Ok, Thank you thank you. What are the sighs? Depression? Abuse?"

"Uhh, I think depression, scary dreams, apparent self-hatred, it's... hard to explain, really."

'...' Poland said nothing.

"Oh...oh no- uh..- Okay! Eheh..- I can get an appointment for you tomorrow at 3:00."

He sighed, slumping in the couch. 'Well at least it's tomorrow..'

Ussr was still staring at nazi's dead body he then tried to clean up the blood it wasn't working because god Dangit blood stains really bad

"Sounds great! See you there! Bye!" He hung up. "Yeah, at least it's tomorrow."

Poland stood up, 'Uhm.. Do you have any food..? I'm hungry..' His stomach growled a little bit.

"Yeah. I got pizza, actually." He remembered that day, two years back, where there was pizza missing that Poland had apparently taken.

Ussr called germany and waited for an answer

Germany picked up the phone. "Hello?"

Poland nodded, looking for a pizza box. He eventually found it, and took a slice.

"Hey ummm i don't know how to tell you this but your dad died"

"Well shit."