Among Us|Countryhumans AU

6

February 19, Shanghai

Not anything of importance had happened last week, unless you wish to count the fact of once again another funeral, and the relocation of the United Nations headquarters back to New York. Although let us press our attentions once again to China and his home.

China's home was quite a wide condominium unit in the middle of a tall 57 story building, around at the 32nd floor. The unit was, surprisingly for a very panicked person, extremely neat. The dining area and kitchen was on the right side of the door. A laundry room stood at the end of the kitchen, and beyond the kitchen counter was the living room, with its white sofas and couches around a glass coffee table. There were big glass windows overlooking the evening, almost night, city, which had turned the entire unit into a beautiful bluish color. There was a hallway overlooking the door and down the hallway were three rooms, a bedroom, the guest room, and the bathroom.

Even as we are finished describing the unit, we had forgotten a person sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

China was still the same person, although he had looked more tired than ever.
He had removed his cap, revealing messy hair tied back to a small ponytail, removed his (uniform)jacket and changed to a white dress shirt, although strangely he still retained the gloves, and he had changed his loafers to some white slippers.
China hadn't eaten or slept for two days, until he realized that he needed to think straight for the tribunal that would take place in two weeks.

He cupped his hands over his face as his legs dangled on the edge of the stool. What will he tell everyone? He couldn't outright tell everyone that he wasn't the culprit. That would be far too suspicious.

But then...

A small dingdong echoed around the apartment and China looked up. He looked at the clock. It was 6:55 pm. Who could be visiting at this time? And besides who would want to visit me? He thought as he walked over to the door.

As he turned the doorknob he was greeted by a strange feeling.

Russia stood there in a turquoise uniform with a red crest and black boots. He hid both of his hands behind his back when he saw China opening the door. Eventually he started twiddling his thumbs but refused to meet China's eyes.

Finally he calmed down and said, "H-Hello China. There was a meeting a while ago and I took that as an opportunity to ask for permission to visit you. Is that okay?"

It took a while for the other to reply, probably out of mixed feelings.
"Of course!" China smiled, although he felt strange when he did it, "Remove your boots if you may."

"Thanks," Russia replied and after he had taken off his footwear, walked inside the unit.

"You're free to sit anywhere you want," said China. Russia took a seat on one of the sofas in the living room.

It was another strange thing to see two people whom we expect are friends suddenly have a type of coldness in between them. Neither said a word. Time passed in silence.

Finally after what it seemed like an enternity (but in reality it was merely fifteen minutes) of awkward silence, the taller one got up.

"Well, it's getting really late, and I should get going," he said to the other who barely looked at him, "Bye."

All of a sudden, the same thought from two weeks ago, on that day when Phil was murdered, struck China.
Why hadn't Russia said anything?

The one thought led to more and more possibilities in such a short time only milliseconds could count it, until it finally came to a conclusion:
If Russia was truly his friend, why hadn't he said anything to defend him?
Was he hiding something?