It was lunchtime in the UN Building, and the World Meeting had been over by an hour. Some nations had already left to have lunch at their respective hotel rooms, but the vast majority of them had stayed at the cute little restaurant in the ground floor. Russia didn't know what to do because he didn't want to eat alone in his bedroom, his sister wouldn't talk to him because of her boss and he was scared to go with his other sister, so he decided to eat alone but accompanied by the other nations around him in the restaurant in the only available table that there was.
He ordered a salad and water, but before the waiter could appear with his dietetic meal, which he didn't dare to call a meal, as it looked more like a snack than a proper meal, he saw a familiar blonde walk through the entrance of the restaurant and look around for an empty table. He sighed when he didn't find one, knowing that if he wanted to eat something (which he always wanted) he would have to seat with Russia.
Rolling his eyes, he approached Russia's table and sat down right in front of the Russian man who was looking down at his cell phone. He had just received a text message from his boss and he would have to hurry up and eat before meeting him in about half an hour. When he looked up and saw the American, his eyes widened.
"What are you doing here, America?"
Said man sighed (again) and looked at his former enemy.
"I just wanted to eat and there was nowhere else I could seat. I hope you don't mind"
Russia was surprised to hear America... asking for permission to seat with him?
"No... I don't"
"Of course you don't, commie. Who would ever complain to be around me?"
America laughed loudly and Russia sunk deeper into his seat. The American's egocentrism reminded him that of certain albino he had fought several times. Before he could think of a clever comeback, the waiter appeared with his salad and his water, which America looked like if it was something from Mars, and took the other's order. And Russia had to force himself to not roll his eyes when he ordered a hamburger with fries and a Coke.
When the waiter had left to get the American's order, he looked up from Russia's food at his face with a smug smirk in his face.
"Dieting, commie?"
Russia choked on his water and tightened his grip around his fork with anger at the younger man's impertinence. How dare he ask him something like that? Who the hell did he think he was? Well, he certainly didn't have the body of a model to criticise others'. He decided to avoid the subject and, instead, talked about something else... which also angered but not as much as the main topic.
"You know I'm not communist anymore, don't you?"
"Well, my bad... ex-commie"
Russia sighed and poked his salad with his fork, but he fumed with anger, so he looked up once again.
"Why don't you treat China like that, huh? You treat him well, as if nothing bothered you about him, and you even ask him for favours!"
America laughed obnoxiously, drawing a little attention from surrounding tables.
"Is the ex-commie jealous about my relationship with China?"
"... what, aru?"
Russia was terribly embarrassed to be forced as the centre of attention in the restaurant, as everyone was looking at him after America's comment. He looked down at his plate and mumbled something the obnoxious American couldn't hear, and couldn't care less about.
"Relationship?"
"Are you also going to have a nervous breakdown? I tell you, you wouldn't be as easy to handle as China was. I would need an entire army just to hold you still"
He laughed again, and Russia hugged himself around his soft belly, hiding his blushing face in his scarf. He looked at the American, who was still crying with laughter, and threw his salad at him before storming out of the restaurant, leaving the place in complete and absolute awkward silence.
He felt his eyes watering but he wouldn't cry. He was the former Russian Empire of Peter and Catherine the Great, the fear of Eastern Europe. He had won wars and had lost them with dignity. He once was the mighty Soviet Union. He had dealt with invasions, revolutions, bloodbaths and a single remark about his weight wouldn't make him cry.
But he cried in his way to his car. He cried like he had never allowed himself to. He was driving and wiping his eyes furiously when he spotted a picturesque bakery where he bought two dozen Ispahan macarons which he ate while driving and crying at the same time. He had tried dieting, but he wouldn't lose any weight and each day that passed, he felt fatter and uglier. His vision suddenly became blurry because of the tears.
Meanwhile, in the UN Building's restaurant, Canada excused himself from the table he was sharing with England and Sealand, who had been wandering through the building for two hours until the meeting was adjourned, and walked over to his brother, who was now eating his hamburger alone, with a little lettuce in the lapels of his uniform from the salad Russia had thrown at him.
"What happened, America?"
"How should I know? Commies are crazy"
Canada rolled his eyes and sat down.
"You shouldn't talk to him like that. He is a good person... in his own, particular way. He tries to be good, you shouldn't judge him for what he did or what he was in the past"
"But..."
"Would you like to be judged for what you did in the past? Shall I remind you of Hiro...?"
"Ok, you are right! I shouldn't have judged him!"
America said, not daring to touch the subject. It was still a bit touchy for him, even though no one believed him.
"You shouldn't have judged him like that and you mustn't judge him anymore"
"Ok... you know, for someone so shy and quiet like you are, you certainly are a pain in the ass whenever you want to"
America said as he paid the bill and left his brother with a smug smirk in his face. He had just achieved his goal and made America rethink his stupid behaviour. He was satisfied.
"Russia had an accident?"
Canada looked around searching for China when he heard his voice echoing through the restaurant, as did many other nations, although the vast majority couldn't care less about what happened to Russia.
"What happened?"
Canada asked when he found China, sitting with his fellow Asians. They didn't seem as startled by the news as he was. China turned around when he hung up and put his cell phone away.
"I'm surprised you care about Russia, America"
Canada sighed and rolled his eyes. Not that again...
"I'm Canada... you know, the guy who lives next to America?"
"Oh, right. I'm sorry, Canada"
"No problem, but what happened to Russia?"
"Apparently he had an accident and is in the ICU"
The news hit Canada like a train. After all... his feelings for Russia were not all too clear for him. All those times the Russian man had failed to notice him and sat on his lap made him feel a little tingle in the pit of his stomach that was not only embarrassment.
Canada caressed the pale skin on Russia's hand softly. He looked peacefully asleep and the room was in absolute silence until someone came in, with regret written all over his face.
"What are you doing here, America?"
Canada whispered, careful not to wake Russia, even though he knew that he wouldn't wake any time soon. America walked closer to the bed and sat in a small sofa, next to Canada's.
"Yeah... I was kinda feeling bad for the commie"
Canada rolled his eyes at his brother's last remark, but decided to leave it there.
"Also, I came because of China. He wanted to know how Russia was doing, but he had a meeting with the ambassador he couldn't postpone"
"I see... well, the doctors wouldn't tell me much because I'm not a relative, but..."
As his brother kept talking about what had happened when he had arrived at the hospital and asked to see Russia, America looked at the former's sleeping face and felt an ache in his chest. He didn't knew if it was because of how sorry he actually felt for having been the cause of the accident, or believing to have been so. Dressed in the hospital's robe, Russia looked even paler than he was... and almost as beautiful as an angel.
"What the hell?!"
America said, shocked by his own reflection. Canada was startled by his brother's sudden reaction and repeated the last sentence carefully so he would understand thinking that that was what America was talking about.
"I said that he would probably be here for about a month or so"
"Oh, yeah... that... I hadn't listened"
America said, embarrassedly rubbing the back of his neck after realising what he had said. He calmed himself and slowly sat back down next to his brother, who kept caressing Russia's hand. Somehow, he didn't like his brother being too close with the commie.
