Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Trouble Behind the Glasses

Narrator's POV

"Why won't he tell me!?" America threw his hands up in the air in frustration. His brother Canada laughed at him and his dramatic display of anger.

"Because it's 'none of my business', that's his answer!" He continued with his rant as the two walked to meet up with Russia and one of his sisters at the park. The dude had a big family.

"Well, you do tend to be over-involved in things like that." Canada tries to explain that to his brother, but like usual it goes in one ear and out the other.

"I was the one who got their date all set up, and they won't even tell me what happened during it!"

Canada rolled his eyes, now coming to terms with the fact that he's not going to get through that big head of his. He loves his brother unconditionally though. Even when he and their dad had a falling out, Canada was there to help his brother. He was still there after America lashed out at him. That was such a long time ago, but he can still feel that America feels guilty about it. Making up for it in what he can, even though Canada has forgiven him.

"Is the little kountry winnyng again?"

America was cut off from his ranting when Russia's voice spoke over him. A few feet in front of them stood the taller figure and a smaller country hiding behind him. She had a big sweater on half yellow and half a light blue. A multicolored flower crown was gently rested on her head. How she got flowers when it was fall surprised them, but they didn't ask.

"Constantly." Canada went along with Russia's teasing and patted America's head. He swatted his hand away and gave his brother a look.

"Did Poland or Germany tell you anything about last night?" America asked Russia, deciding against arguing with them about that comment. It would bring nothing but more teasing. And he doesn't have the attention span for that right now.

"You kan ask him yourrrself. Poland is going to be herrre in few minutes. He vant to talk to me about something." Russia looked at his phone to check the time. His unnamed sister tapped his shoulder and motioned for Russia to lean down. She whispered to him something in another language and pointed to Canada. Russia response back in his language, leaving the other two confused.

"I'm sorry, eh, but what did you guys say?" Canada asked, eyeing the girl. She looked familiar, Ukraine he believed her name was.

"My sister just vanted to know who you werrre," Russia explained in a short summary.

"Well, eh, I'm Canada. It's nice to meet you." He held out a hand to shake and the girl looked him up and down. Her eyes seem to scan his entire being, judging his stance, and looking into his soul.

"Ukraine." She accepted his handshake and greeted him with a warm smile. The switch from a predator to innocent startled him, but he was happy with the conclusion.

"When is Poland getting here, I wanna know what happened so baaaad." America started complaining again, looking around them to try and spot the familiar polish country. No luck. There were a few countries around, but not any of the two he was looking for.

"Oh kut it out. Whinnying is not going to make him hurrrry." Russia said one of his usual monotone comments with zero expression. Dude always looks like a robot when he's in public, America noted. But that first night at his house, he lost that hard outer shell and looked alive. Like, he had emotions, he could smile, he could joke and be really sincere. Why he wasn't like that with everyone confused him.

"Oh hush up, you know very well I'm just trying to be annoying." America playfully punched Russia, as he's been doing a lot lately. It's his way of trying to condition him into knowing that if America jokingly pushes, or punches him in the future, its not an invitation to really hurt him back. It's just a joke. Scary ass Russian.

"But seriously, ga:weh neh haji:nöh?" (where is the man?)." America suddenly covered his mouth, a loud audible slap stopping the casual atmosphere. No one could see, but his eyes went wide when he realized what he had spoken in.

"What the hell?" Russia looked at him weirdly. His English may not be perfect, but he knew very well what he said wasn't it.

America opened his mouth to try and talk down what just happened, but instead, he started to violently cough. Canada noticed, tearing himself away from his and Ukraine's conversation. Russia was looking at America cautiously, and nervously. He had his hand over his throat and looked to Canada.

"Dasgyenöwö's! (Help me!)" He desperately tried to speak his own language, to try and beg for Canada to help him. But he couldn't. Not anymore.

Canada didn't understand what America had said, but it didn't matter. He had heard and seen enough.

It was happening again.

America started to shake, his head feeling light, and his heart picking up speed. His throat burned with the power of thousands of words unspoken, and his tearing at his throat to get it all out. But he couldn't, not here. Not in front of all these countries.

"Amerrrica, what is wrrrong, arrre you okay?" Russia grabbed him by his shoulders and studied his face. He could tell that whatever was wrong was excruciatingly painful, with only deep rough coughs and gasp for air being the only sounds that escaped him.

America tried to respond again but coughed into his hand. He felt a hot poker stab his neck for a few seconds before it faded away to a less burning hot stab. America looked down at his hand and noticed a black liquid was now splattered on it, a small pool forming in his palm. He could feel the same liquid slowly falling down his lip. Russia saw all of that and audibly gasped.

"I got to get him home, we are so sorry to leave you like this. Tell us what Poland said, please. I'm so sorry again." Canada quickly shook Ukraine's hand as a goodbye, grabbed his brother, yanking him from Russia's grasp. America had tears running down his cheeks as he held his hand over his mouth to keep any more words or black liquid from coming out.

Russia tried to grab America again but Canada was already dragging him behind him as he ran. He looked to Ukraine before they both silently agreed to follow them. So they ran to try and catch up.

Canada called their mom, and she immediately answered. "Bonjour, Canada sweetee"

"Mom! It's America, he's having another one of his episodes."

"Oh lá lá, non, (oh dear, no) wergre argre you two!?"

"The park. Back entrance." Canada looked down at his brother and seen he was trying to keep up the best he could. America just wanted to fall down and scream, but he wanted to get up and fight everything, or run into the woods and live there. So many conflicting things all at once, dancing around with the pain he felt throughout his body. In his mind, in his throat, in his chest, in his heart.

"Saja'dasno:wä:t! (Get a move on!)" America shouted at Canada through gritted teeth, pain, and fear seeping into his voice. He couldn't even speak English anymore, oh God he really needed to get him home.

France, ignoring all road safety rules, sped her way down the streets and screeched to halt in front of the smaller gate entrance/exit. She spotted Canada and America running towards her, so she quickly got out and opened the side door of the car for them.

Russia and Ukraine were behind them, enough for them to still see the other two, but too far to reach them in time. The two brothers had jumped into the car and had driven away by the time Russia and Ukraine had skidded to a stop by the side of the road. They both panted, tired, and wishing they had run faster.

"Vhat was that?" Ukraine asked, standing up and holding her arms above her head.

"I don't know. But something isn't rrright vith him." Russia watched the car turn out of sight and stayed there until the sound of the loud engine disappeared. That black substance that he coughed out. Him speaking in an unfamiliar language, one he had never heard of. His fear and pain as he clawed at his own throat.

What was all that?

When they arrived home, America ran right inside and past everyone who waited at the door nervously. He ran right up to his room and quickly shut and locked his door. He slammed the windows shut and pushed the curtains in front of them.

Then he screamed. A loud, long, drawn-out, grueling, agonizingly painful screech. It burned his throat to do, but he couldn't stop himself. He fell to his knees, clutching his head as the pounding of drums beat on the inside of his head.

His scream turned into a watery choke as he held his mouth shut. His stomach churned as he could feel more of that black liquid start to build up in his throat.

In a panic, he ran into his private bathroom and collapsed onto the toilet. He threw up, retching and shutting his eyes tight from the pain. His hands clutched the sides of the seat, shaking and hurting from the amount of force he was using.

When all was said and done, America sat by the sink hugging his knees to his chest and crying softly into his legs. His sunglasses were discarded to the side, the first time in a while he had taken them off without having to go to bed.

A knock tapped on his bathroom door, but he didn't move to look up. He knew he didn't close his bathroom door, so whoever was at the door could see him.

"Amergreeca, sweetee?" France softly spoke, stepping lightly to her son. He didn't move or respond. She glanced around the bathroom, glad to see that he didn't break his mirror again. But black splotches of the strange liquid he always coughed up during this were in the sink and still in the toilet.

"Oh, mon pauvre bébé. (Oh, my poor baby.)" She fell to her knees and grabbed him into a tight hug. America sobbed into her shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around her and holding her tightly. She rubbed his back and shushed him, trying her best to comfort him.

Canada stood in the doorway, looking at the two. He played with the key to America's room between his fingers. He had given it to him before, just so he can check up on him when something like this happens. It was supposed to be a just in case thing.

Canada cleaned up America's bathroom as France laid the country down on his bed. America stopped speaking and turned on his side so his back was facing them. France frowned, but knew not to take it personally. He was hurting and didn't want them to see him like that.

"Zhust rgrest sweetee. You can come down wen you are reh-dee." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and stood to leave.

"I cleaned your bathroom, for you Ame." Canada stood by the side of the bed looking down at him curled up in the fetal position. He hugged him quickly before turning to leave with their mom.

"See you in a bit, eh?"

America heard the door click shut and he waited a few minutes before sitting up. He looked to his phone, the light blinking of new messages. He decided to ignore those for now, fearing that maybe one was from Russia. Asking him what all of that was.

He sighed and stood on his feet. His legs were weak and he almost fell down, but he caught himself on his nightstand. He tried to look for his sunglasses but he didn't see them. They must still be in his bathroom.

They where. Sitting on the floor.

He picked them up and went to wash them off in the sink. America rubbed his thumb over the rim of the glasses. He noticed they were cracked and chipped away at the edge. Must be from when he threw them. Annoyed, he threw them into the trash. That was his last extra pair, he had to be more careful with them.

Frustrated, he rubbed his face and looked down into the drain. He was avoiding looking at the mirror for one obvious reason. Without his shades, he knew what he'd see.

His eyes.

His dark black eyes.

((Little America has a secret. And it's not a pretty one. A little theory based on a little thing I saw. It's actually the video I added. A little side note, but just shout out to that animator. They are really good and I love them.

Edit: Okay, someone in the comments told me that the original idea for the black eyes is from t._tazy on Instagram. Check them out, they are really cool. The idea I have for this fic, though, is kind of similar to theirs, just some differences. Thank you, and if your interested check t._tazy out. Their art is great, honestly. Like, I legit just checked them out to see what they offered and ended up scrolling through their entire page... So yeah.))

Ësgöge'ae' comrades!

~Galaxy