Today was going rather strange.

First, America was being quiet. That was unnerving in itself. Then it went back to normal after his speech ended. England and France were at each other's throats while everyone else returned their attention to the front, which was normal too. America was asleep faster than usually but that wasn't out of the ordinary by much. That anxious feeling was still there though.

Later, when lunch time arrived, I started to discuss with Latvia all the things he could eat that will allow him not to shake. Then he started shaking again. Just when I was about to hold him in place, America dragged me out of the room. I couldn't help the smile that formed on my face at which point because it was just so amusing! What could the loud American have to discuss that is so important that he had to pull me out of the room? He glanced over his shoulder behind us and when I was about to look too he pulled us into the bathroom.

I was about to ask him was so important that he felt necessary to drag me to the bathroom when he almost fell trying to make it too the sink. I've know that America isn't the most graceful country but he wasn't that clumsy. Something was wrong, and I couldn't help but worry, which was strange. I frown at the thought. Recently, our countries' relationship has improved greatly but not enough for this degree of concern.

. . . I don't think. . .

I get pulled from my thoughts by a pained strangled gasp. Turning, I catch the imposing, excitable, and rash hero. . . trembling? Latvia is the only one I know of that could tremble, but this is different. Very different. Something's wrong.

"America?" I ask cautiously. Watching him closely, I don't think he realizes he's shaking.

"I'm fine!" He says too quickly. I don't even think he noticed his voice cracked.

Ignoring the blatant lie, I press on. "What is wrong with you?" I took a few steps closer to him, trying to glance at his face, but his bangs blocked my view.

"I'm fucking fine!" He snapped angrily. Angry at me or someone else, I don't know, but he's tone was bitter. So unlike the bodacious voice that he's known for. The one that could cause annoyance or joy in anyone that hears it.

That uneasiness certainly has gotten stronger too.

"America." I allowed my voice to get louder, even after he noticeably winced from the sound. But he did look at me; expression showed underlines of pain that I'm sure he didn't notice. He was shaking a little bit harder now.

"If you are fine then why are you trembling?" I moved closer leaving about one foot between us. After the words were uttered, he visibly stiffened. All motion stilled for a split second before he went back to shaking. He faced the mirror and for one moment the only thing I could see. . . was self-loathing.

That should be the very last thing I should see on his face, let alone him actually believing that it is true.

Without thinking, I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face me. He immediately gripped my arm. "What's wrong?" I pressed on. What happened? What happened to you America?

He didn't answer me. Instead, he shakily went into his pocket and pulled out a bottle, and judging by the rattling, it was pills. Snatching them from his hands, I read the label.

"G-Give them b-back Russia! I swear if you don't—"

". . .Pain killers?" I breathed lowly, letting my eyes scan the blonde's face. He had it downcast but I could see the self-disdain back if not more potent. He gripped my arm tighter after long pause before he broke it.

"J-Just. . . please. . . give m-me two." He whimpered openly. The tone. . . it sounded so. . . defeated. It was rather sad actually. Such a happy and outgoing person could crumble without a fight? He looked so small as his hold on my sleeve started to waver. Not saying another word, I open the bottle and gave him two pills. As soon as they made contact with his hand, he swallowed them and detached himself from arm, leaving a coldness I didn't notice until now. He threw himself against the wall and slide to the floor, at this point I'm sure he forgot I was still in the room. He curled into himself.

I didn't know what to do. America. . . He has never– For all the time I have known him he has never looked so. . . beaten.

Unable to continue looking at him like this, I reach out to him. I hesitated when a soft whimper left his lips making him curl in tighter. Before I could touch him, he thrashed his back into the wall. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Stunned from the sudden outburst that echoed in the empty room, I felt him brush pass me as he scrambled for the exit. His eyes were filled with anxiety or maybe fear? He moved so unexpectedly I couldn't really tell. I couldn't brush off the feeling that quickly followed as he left. The feeling of dread that takes over when something bad is about to happen. Ignoring the little voice that was asking me why I even cared, I ran after him.

Making it to the hallway in a heartbeat, I caught a glimpse of blonde hair as it quickly left out of the exit. Heading after him, it dawned on me that it led to the cafeteria. Filled with gossiping nations. With only one exit, this is located right behind me. Perfect.

Keeping close to the door, I scan the room for that stressful American. Where did he—

"Hello Russia. Do you have a minute, aru?" Judging by that speech cork, it was China. Plastering on what I deem to be a friendly smile, while others called it a rapist smirk (America), I turn to him.

"Hello comrade China, and nyet. I have. . . pressing matters to attend to." I hesitated before looking around the panda lover. Still not seeing the American, I return my full attention just when he started to talk again.

"Oh, I see. Maybe next time then, aru." He said simply.

"Yes, next time." I confirmed easily, sliding by him and continuing my search.

Still not seeing the blond, I was about to check another room just to make sure he didn't pass me when a door I didn't notice before came into view. Giving only a glance, it was obvious it was a janitor's closet, and judging by how far away it was from the other nations in the room, quite easy to slip into unseen. Making my way over to the door in large strides, I couldn't help that little feeling of something wrong. I already knew something was terribly wrong but I'm getting the feeling it's a lot worse then what I originally thought. Hesitating with my hand on the knob of the door, I exhaled slowly, not accustomed to such intense and rather bothering emotions, and opened the door.


A/N:

Ummm. . . G-Guys. . . This wasn't my first time writing Russia period, but this is my first time writing him in first-person AND trying to keep him in character for the most part. So could you give some feedback about how I could improve my Inner Russia, and or tips to write better? Also, I'm in dire need of a beta, so if you know anyway who wouldn't mind or you yourself would like to beta this story, please!

Let. Me. Know.

P.S: And, why Yes! It is a cliffhanger!