A Cold Truth [2/3]
anonymous
August 20 2009, 04:07:49 UTC
His icy hand reached out to touch Russia's cheek, and the tears froze in their tracks across his face.
“I grow tired of you. If you are done with your complaints, leave.” The snow swirled violently again, and with that, he was gone. Russia's legs abruptly gave out and he found himself on his knees in the snow.
He needed to get out of here. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he couldn't catch his breath and everything was still so blurry and...and he needed to get away. The desire to run filled him up utterly and he stumbled to his feet, running blindly. Home, he wanted to go home...That thought kept echoing through his mind, and his legs were moving on their own now. Home, he'd be safe at home, he'd be warm again there...
The mantra kept cycling over and over until suddenly the familiar front door was in front of him again. He ran inside and slammed the door, locking it. That was stupid, he though. The lock wouldn't keep the winter out, and it couldn't hold back the things the general had said, those terrible things.
And the worst part of it all was that General Winter was right. He could see the fake smiles of his housemates every day. They didn't want to be near him. They hated it. If he wasn't forcing them to stay, they'd all be out the door before he could blink. Every last one of them...because Russia was such a monster. No one could love a monster, and everything bad happened because he....because he...
“M-Mr. Russia?” Latvia was suddenly in front of him, staring up with large, nervous eyes. “I-Is s-s-something wrong? D-do you feel sick?”
Russia shook his head mutely, not trusting his voice. Something tickled his cheek. The warmth from the room was making the frozen tears melt, and they were starting to slid down his face again. He quickly scrubbed them away with his glove, suddenly realizing how dangerously close he was to completely falling apart.
He turned away from Latvia and tried to voice an excuse: he had work to do, he was very tired, he needed to use the restroom, anything, any excuse to get him out of that room and away from Latvia. It wouldn't be good to cry in front of the tiny Baltic. Latvia hated him, just like everyone else. If he saw Russia being weak, he might find the strength to finally leave Russia's house for good. And if Latvia could leave, then so could everyone else, and Russia would really be alone then...
Russia staggered towards his bedroom, hoping to have some privacy there, when he felt something grab his left hand. He turned and looked down. Latvia was standing beside him, both hands wrapped around Russia's larger one. His pale face was a bit flushed and up close Russia could see him trembling slightly, but there was a strange determination in his eyes.
“P-please tell me what's wrong,” he said quietly. “Are y-you hurt?”
This wasn't good at all. It wasn't good to cry in front of Latvia, but tears suddenly filled up his eyes again and were rolling down his cheeks before he could stop them. Latvia's eyes widened, and his grip loosened on Russia's hand. That was all the invitation Russia needed; he jerked his hand away and ran the rest of the way to his room. He could be alone there, at least. No one else would have to see him being weak and pathetic...he wouldn't give them any more reason to hate him.
His room was dark and not cold, but somehow that was comforting. He slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor; it was as though all the strength had drained out of him. The tears kept pouring down his face; he tried to wipe them away, but more fell to replace them.
“I grow tired of you. If you are done with your complaints, leave.” The snow swirled violently again, and with that, he was gone. Russia's legs abruptly gave out and he found himself on his knees in the snow.
He needed to get out of here. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he couldn't catch his breath and everything was still so blurry and...and he needed to get away. The desire to run filled him up utterly and he stumbled to his feet, running blindly. Home, he wanted to go home...That thought kept echoing through his mind, and his legs were moving on their own now. Home, he'd be safe at home, he'd be warm again there...
The mantra kept cycling over and over until suddenly the familiar front door was in front of him again. He ran inside and slammed the door, locking it. That was stupid, he though. The lock wouldn't keep the winter out, and it couldn't hold back the things the general had said, those terrible things.
And the worst part of it all was that General Winter was right. He could see the fake smiles of his housemates every day. They didn't want to be near him. They hated it. If he wasn't forcing them to stay, they'd all be out the door before he could blink. Every last one of them...because Russia was such a monster. No one could love a monster, and everything bad happened because he....because he...
“M-Mr. Russia?” Latvia was suddenly in front of him, staring up with large, nervous eyes. “I-Is s-s-something wrong? D-do you feel sick?”
Russia shook his head mutely, not trusting his voice. Something tickled his cheek. The warmth from the room was making the frozen tears melt, and they were starting to slid down his face again. He quickly scrubbed them away with his glove, suddenly realizing how dangerously close he was to completely falling apart.
He turned away from Latvia and tried to voice an excuse: he had work to do, he was very tired, he needed to use the restroom, anything, any excuse to get him out of that room and away from Latvia. It wouldn't be good to cry in front of the tiny Baltic. Latvia hated him, just like everyone else. If he saw Russia being weak, he might find the strength to finally leave Russia's house for good. And if Latvia could leave, then so could everyone else, and Russia would really be alone then...
Russia staggered towards his bedroom, hoping to have some privacy there, when he felt something grab his left hand. He turned and looked down. Latvia was standing beside him, both hands wrapped around Russia's larger one. His pale face was a bit flushed and up close Russia could see him trembling slightly, but there was a strange determination in his eyes.
“P-please tell me what's wrong,” he said quietly. “Are y-you hurt?”
This wasn't good at all. It wasn't good to cry in front of Latvia, but tears suddenly filled up his eyes again and were rolling down his cheeks before he could stop them. Latvia's eyes widened, and his grip loosened on Russia's hand. That was all the invitation Russia needed; he jerked his hand away and ran the rest of the way to his room. He could be alone there, at least. No one else would have to see him being weak and pathetic...he wouldn't give them any more reason to hate him.
His room was dark and not cold, but somehow that was comforting. He slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor; it was as though all the strength had drained out of him. The tears kept pouring down his face; he tried to wipe them away, but more fell to replace them.
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