Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Morning After

Russia's POV

My eyes slowly rose open, but I hissed when a bright light burned them. My stomach growled, from pain and from hunger. If I could have, I knew I would've thrown up. But I had nothing in my stomach to do that. When did I eat last? I think I made food, but did I eat any? I can't even remember. Uhh, my head hurts just trying to think.

I rolled over, hoping that if I find a comfortable position I could feel like I wasn't internally dying. I hit something, I wasn't sure what, but I knew it wasn't supposed to be there.

"что за хрень на моей кровати? (What the fuck is on my bed?)"

I tried to move, but something had my arm pinned down. Panicking, I tried to see what it was but all I could make out was the fuzzy image of my blanket lumped over something. Was there actually something under there? Or did the blanket feel a hundred times heavier? Ehh, my eyes are so dry.

I blinked a few times, hoping to get some moisture onto my eyes and to reduce the pain of the bright lights. Squinting was all I could do at the moment, so that would have to do.

I peaked under the covers and quickly slammed them back down. If my stomach didn't have enough stuff to go through, now it has the vigorous butterflies swarming around. America was there! He was pinning my arm down! He was in my bed! He was cuddling my arm! Again! Oh God, I was up against him, too.

"Ах, дерьмо, нет! (Ahh, shit, nope!)" I tore my arm free and tried to move away from him. "Что, черт возьми, происходит - почему это всегда с ним? (What the hell is going- why is it always with him?)"

Furious, I kicked him off the bed and felt a little amused when the loud thump was followed by a shout of pain. America stirred slightly and started to get up. I glared at him, my anger overriding my confusion and dizziness. Why was he in my bed- why was he in my house!? I didn't invite him over, what the hell was he thinking?!

"Uhhh, " he groaned, his back to me. "Where am I?"

"In my rrroom."

He jumped and spun around. For some strange reason, however, he slapped his hands over his eyes before he fully faced me. "Where are my sunglasses, do you see them?" He frantically started feeling around the bed and floor, looking for what he said.

"Open yourrr eyes and you vould find zem." I snapped, rubbing my forehead. God, it fucking hurt like hell. None of my questions are going to be answered if he is going to be concerned over his stupid shades.

"Russia, seriously man where are they?" He continued to feel around the bed for them, holding one hand over his eyes.

"What arrre you doing herrre?" I restated, or now just said. I couldn't focus on whether or not I actually asked him anything. "I neverrr told you to kome overrr."

I spotted the glasses and pushed them towards his reach. He grabbed them and turned around to face away from me to put them on. Why the heck was he acting so weird, does he have like a scar by his eye or something?

"You did invite me over yesterday." America stood and faced back towards me, hand on his extended hip.

"What, why the hell vould I do zat?" I rubbed my forehead, trying to concentrate. I sat crossed legged so I could sit comfortably on my bed. Why would I? What even happened yesterday? I remember coming into my room, I-I had my vodka with me. My father's stuff...

"Dude, you look like your trying to really rack your brain there and it ain't working." America sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "Look, you called me when you were super wasted, saying some things in Russian, then you started crying. I came over and- and umm..."