W̶h̶a̶t̶ i̶f̶ I̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ d̶i̶e̶?-[Countryhumans Sovame]

Chapter 3-Can i die yet? No. No you can't.

♡Soviet's POV♡
12/19/1991

Soviet knew at some point he was going to die. That's why he didn't attempt suicide. What he didn't know is when he was going to die. Now he knows. He only has a week to live. What would he do? Continue to cut away the pains, or actually try and spend time with his family and maybe....the capitalist. Maybe both? Who knows. He has to decide soon since he was getting out of the hospital today. As soon as he was released he decided that he would spend time with his family but not tell them how long he has to live. As soon as he got home he offered to go ice skating. All of his kids Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan screamed in joy. Before they wen't to the skating lake they usually go to Soviet called America to see if he wanted to go too. The answer was yes.
He was now at the frozen over lake waiting for the American while his kids played on the ice.

☆America's POV☆
He had finally made it to the lake and had saw Soviet and his kids. I can't lie his kids are kinda cute. So is he- ugh what am I thinking. He walks up to the Russian and greets him while putting his skates on. He hadn't skated in a long long time so he kinda forgot how to. Then he fell. "Oof.." Soviet chuckled and helped him up and onto the ice. "Just follow my lead you will get the hang of it." Soviet said as he grabbed America's hand and pulled him forward. He started to get better and better, but then he lost his balance and fell right on top of Soviet. America became a blushing mess. "I-I'm s-sorry!" Said America as he tried to get up. He kept on slipping and falling back onto Soviet. "No need to be sorry America, it happens all the time." But not like this.

♡Soviet's POV♡

As it was getting dark me and the kids walked home. So did America. But when America fell on me..I felt something..but there's no way I can be attracted to him in that way. I shouldn't find love anyways. I would just make their heart break since I don't have much time to live. When I got home I went to the bathroom and saw the tiny blade I used to cut. "Can I die yet?" I heard a voice in the back of my head say 'No. No you can't.' I still would cut. I looked at the cuts in satisfaction. Cutting should keep me occupied. Or maybe I can just drink away my problems? No. I quit drinking long ago for a reason. I should just continue to cut.