Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Christmas

Narrator's POV

Merry fucking Christmas America.

That’s all he could think of as he vomited in his bathroom. It was the same as his other episodes, except since what had happened in the woods, they have been more frequent. They had originally happened every other few weeks, sometimes even with a month or two between his episodes if he was lucky.

Now this was his second one today. Or what he considered today, at least, since an episode had happened around midnight that night then this one now.

Not even bothering to cry out for help or speak in general, America struggled to wait it out. He didn’t know what else to do during this anymore. His family was downstairs doing Christmas stuff and he was locked away in his room feeling everything but jolly. He had spent that morning causing as little chaos as possible, just for the Christmas spirit. Plus he loved Christmas. The snow, the decorations, the songs, the food, and most importantly the presents!

Personally, his favorite is the gift part.

Oh and the whole joy to the world and family stuff.

Weakened, he collapsed onto the floor and tried to steady his panicked breathing. After a few minutes, he managed to move and curled up into a small ball. Like some cruel joke, in his pain all he heard was Christmas music playing downstairs. His family laughed, his mother’s voice louder than the others. Such a cherry sound, with magic in the air, turned sour and cold when it reached his ears.

As he struggled to lift himself up, he heard a slight nocking on his bedroom door.

“Ame? Are you okay? You kind of left without saying anything.”

It was Canada.

He dragged himself to the wall and sat up, pressing his back against it. If he could, he would have grabbed his glasses and covered up the fact he was having yet another episode. The last thing he wanted was to stir up more trouble and worry, especially on Christmas. He didn’t want to taint the holiday with his problems. Unfortunately, his arms and legs wouldn’t comply with that want, instead they remained weak and useless.

Canada slowly opened the door, a small wrapped box in hand. He had made a special gift for everyone in his family, he gave his mom a very specially made fur coat (which no animals were killed for), his father a glass jar of maple syrup to flavor his tea, Australia a new leather journal so he could record his findings, and New Zealand a camera that could take high quality photos of the night sky. And for America, he got him a small key chain that had an utility knife. But America was not present to receive his.

"America?" Canada asked once more stepping fully into his brother's room. It was slightly messy, as it always is, but with no immediate sign of him.

Then he noticed the bathroom door open, America pressed against the wall with his eyes closed. That familiar sight, along with his glasses discarded on the floor and splotches of that black stuff dripped everywhere, told Canada all he needed to know.

Quickly, Canada ran to America and set the box down on the ground. "Oh, America," he cried grabbing him into a hug, "I'm sorry i didn't know you were going through another one!"

America loosely held his brother in a hug, trying not to speak. He'd rather not strain his throat more than he already has.

"They've been getting worse, especially after you and Russia got lost in the woods." Canada rubbed his brothers back and held him like a child. America felt a twinge of guilt as he was reminded of his lie.

"Lost in the woods." That's what he convinced everyone to believe. Nothing had happened, there was no kidnapping, nothing like that. He and Russia had wanted to scare the others but got lost in the dark woods. Then they found their way back in the morning, after taking shelter away from wild animals. It had worked enough, well enough for others to drop it, but Russia went silent after that.

Oh, Russia. America felt even more guilty. When they had a moment alone, Russia asked him why he lied. Why he wasn't telling anyone he just got kidnapped and tortured. Instead, he turned to him and said it didn't happen. That they had gotten lost in the woods and America fell down a steep elevated drop and got scuffed up. Nothing else had happened, no one else was there. Russia hadn't really talked to him since.

"America?"

He shook his head and looked up ay Canada who wore a worried frown.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"Are you okay? This was the fifth one this week."

Sixth, America thought to himself.

"What's going on?"

He really should make sure Russia was okay. Especially with what was going to happen tomorrow. He hadn't checked upon him for a month. Completely cold turkey. Okay, well, not completely. They had made small conversations in school but Russia would always keep his answer short and cold. He was dodging conversation and he wasn't trying to hide it.

"America!"

"What?" He sputtered out like a dying car engine, his voice sickly and broken.

"What's going on? You space out for a while." Canada was still holding onto America, the added worry to his face made him look like he aged another century in less than five seconds.

"I'm okay, I was just—" he paused and rubbed his eyes "—thinking. What-what-what, are what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I wanted to give you this." Canada grabbed the gift and handed it to him. America looked at it and smiled, trying his best to be enthusiastic. Canada could tell he was trying, even though it must have been hard to smile. It made him feel warm.

“Nice.” America half heartedly chuckled when he saw the utility knife. He knew it must have been because of the story he told and Canada wanted to make sure he was always prepared.

“I hope you’d like it.” Canada stood and helped America to his feet. He held onto his arm until he could regain some strength in his legs, allowing himself to be lead to his bed. He watched worryingly as America grabbed a pair of sunglasses off his nightstand and covered his eyes once more.

“We should go get dad and mom, tell them you had another episode.”

“No!”

Canada jumped from the sudden urgency.

“I mean.” America sighed and played with his hands. “I don’t want to bother everyone. Not today at least. Can we wait until tomorrow?”

He nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. Downstairs everyone was having fun. Hearing that America’s problem was getting worse would defeat lynx damped their parade. Maybe it could wait a day, if America really thought it could.

“You going to be okay here?” He rubbed the back of his neck, the small raccoon tail of his hat brushing against the back of his hand. “Australia wants to see snow and we always have it, but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

America sat down and rubbed his knees, trying to soothe the soreness. He glanced up on his dresser, cluttered with dozens of small objects and clothes he had yet to put away. There in the mess, was a small wrapped gift. He had gotten it wrapped a week prior to the holiday, hoping that by now things with Russia would have changed. They hadn't, and it made his heart ache.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I gotta be the first one to throw a snowball at his head, after all.” America joked standing up and going to grab his coat and gloves. Canada smiled at his brother and went to go get ready himself.

“I’ll meet you downstairs then, okay, Ame?”

“Gottcha’ bro.” He said, not bothering to look over his shoulder to talk to him. He grabbed what he needed, quickly putting the stuff on and clearing his dresser’s surface. Instead of putting everything away, however, he tossed everything onto the ground. All he had was the gift he had wanted to give to Russia. He had that for a few years, he knew Russia may like it.

He hesitated picking it up, however. Today was what it was meant for yes, but tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Russia might need it the most.