Italy rode in the cart as Germany begrudgingly pushed it. Japan went over the list he made in the car for Italy's pasta and whatever side dishes Germany had in mind. You just wanted to be a part of the fun. And, plus you knew the cheapest grocery stores with good quality. Japan gaped at the prices, and gasped even more at the Asian products loaded on the aisle. You kept your eye on him since Germany already had Italy to handle. "They aren't top quality though."
"Still, these prices are amazing," he took a packet of miso soup.
You shrug, "I'm sure they are, but I'm certain having the food made where it originated from makes all the difference. I've tried a bunch of sushi restaurants, but I'd love to see Japan at least once."
He stares at you with a smile, "Don't worry I'll make sure that happens." You both hear Italy and Germany fighting over the type of meat to buy, "Ah...anyways is there any reason you love Japanese food in particular?"
"I love the culture in particular and even studied Japanese in high school," he gapes at you. "Oh, yeah, I speak a little Japanese, but it's embarrassing."
"No, not at all! Feel free to practice on me. What inspired you?"
You turn your head away, "Well...ahem." A big inhale, you must say your reason with pride, "Anime."
"...Anime? Wh-Which kind?!" you feel as if you turned on the fanboy switch in him.
You both start exchanging anime genres, titles, crushes until Germany and Italy return. "Mein gott...we leave you two alone for a few minutes and Japan has converted you," said Germany. Italy hugged his pasta boxes happily, "By the way can you teach me how to use this...Word, and Powerpoint?"
"What? I'm sorry, I assumed you would know how to use these programs already."
"Technology has advanced really fast when you think about it,I haven't adapted quite yet," he puts on an embarrassed face. You pat his back.
Italy begins placing the items on the counter. The cashier doesn't seem bothered, but she tried to hold back her grin. On the ride over to the grocery store you sat at the backseat with Japan, but did not have any need to strike a conversation with him. So it surprised Italy and Germany in the front when the two of you broke out in Japanese and gushed about anime. Favorite animators, manga, movies, characters, it's been a while since you found someone to unload your inner otaku on.
After placing the groceries on the table at America's house you pause everyone, "Hold up, it's too quiet."
Germany takes a switchblade out from God who knows where, "Stay here."
Instead of obeying his orders all three of you lined up behind him. However, you all actually stay behind as he enters the room first, only to come out and say, "The bastards got drunk." Japan, Italy and Germany casually make their way back to the kitchen as you look inside.
"OH MY GOD WHO'S YELLING?!" slurred America.
Britain is purely knocked out cold on the floor with his back against the couch even though you only count two beer cans. France awoke from America's yell, and titters, he looks at the empty wine bottle held in his hand, nods at it with a drunken look and falls back asleep. America laid sprawled on the couch as Russia, well, awake and to your surprise looked damn sober. He held one of the random magazines America had on the table and when he noticed you he asked smoothly, "Back so soon?"
"Not soon enough," you start picking up the mess the men, or boys, left on the ground. "Did you drink?"
"Oh yeah, I had some shots of Smirnoff vodka," he points at a 1/3 empty bottle on the table.
You cringe at vodka, it burned down your throat, is strong and had a bitter, sour taste alone. "Are you sober?"
"It takes more to get me as drunk as these three," he realized you are still wearing his coat. "...Do you want to keep that?"
"Oh, oh no!" You take the garment by the collar and open it up with the intention of slipping it off easily with both arms.
Apparently, from behind, it looked like you were flashing Russia. You heard a gasp, and England exclaim, "Oh blimey!"
You look back and see Japan with a red face, "I-It's too soon in the story line to be doing those kinds of things!"
Immediately, you take the coat off causing Japan to think you stripped yourself nude as he covered his face. "Senpai no! See? I'm covered."
He sighs in relief, "Oh thank goodness." He leaves the room feeling dirty minded.
"Sorry," you hand the coat back to Russia, "It was...really comfy. Totally would consider buying one! Thank you."
"I'll buy you one as comfortable as this when I return to Russia," there comes that fluffy atmosphere again.
"N-No, it's okay really!"
"Food's almost ready!" chimed Italy from the kitchen.
"Want to help me wake up these guys?" You watch Russia loom over France. His shadow must give a menacing since France woke up, screamed, and kicked England's head.
"AUGH YOU!" whether he was hangover or not England had the strength to pounce back.
Their tussle made enough noise to rouse America up, before he can tell them to shut it you told him food is waiting. You and Russia follow behind as France and England sluggishly used the walls to balance themselves. Light leaked from the kitchen into the dark hallway with a sound of glass clinking against each other. Inside Italy danced around the table setting plates down as Japan laid utensils next to them. Germany stood at the sink washing the pots and pants they have used. In the middle is a pot of spaghetti decorated with tomato sauce and meatballs along with deep fried balls with a sauce and garlic bread. "Wow, what are those?" you point at the fritters.
"Reuben bites," Germany wipes his hands on his apron. You assume it's America's since the apron's design is the American flag. "It's basically meat and cheese, but I promise it tastes delicious."
America brings out another apron, "Hey bro why didn't you wear this one?"
"Because it has a naked torso on the front!"
"It's muscular though so it's not as different as when you are shirtless," commented Italy. You whirl the other way trying to not let your imagination run off, but you felt your cheeks light up, so you covered them.
You felt hands on your shoulders and you look up at Russia, "Don't worry, it's not as different when I'm shirtless."
Your face rapidly went red as your mind goes blank. "Uh...ehm," you stretch an arm out to find a chair. "I-I, n-nice..."
"Would you like to see me shirtless?" asked France already proceeding to unbutton his shirt.
America threw the apron at him, "C'mon let's eat already!"
...
You open your eyes expecting to see the usual view of your room, but as soon your sight cleared up, you notice staring at an empty couch. Sitting up, you realize you never left America's house and slept on one of the couches in the television room. No one was around. The blanket someone placed on you slipped off as you scooped up your bag and tugged on your shoes. After tugging your jacket on you begin walking towards the kitchen. Tiptoeing, you hear America's voice in the distance, "Yes, I will get right on it, sir." The living room, you place your cheek against the cold brick wall and see him talking on the phone. "Yes, sir, the documents are here," you hear the rustle of paper and a sigh. "I will meet you then, sir, thank you." The phone clicks and America scratches the back of his head. "Man, and I thought I was free today," he spoke in his casual voice.
"America," you spoke up. "Sorry, I guess I dozed off on the couch when we went back to watching movies..."
"Oh, no problem! No one wanted to wake up that beautiful drooling face of yours," he teased as he walked over to the kitchen area.
"I wish you did," you hear keys jingle. "I'll, see myself out then."
"What? Lemme drop you off!"
"N-No! My school is nearby it's like a fifteen minute walk from here, I need to go finish up some paperwork," you open the door.
His arm wraps around your back as he pushes you out to his car, "Oh, please, I'll get you there in two minutes. Plus it's freezing! Check it out! Snow is everywhere."
The car warms up as you take a look around, it has snowed. It isn't even the mushy snow, it actually is the snow you see in Christmas movies. A snowman stood at the front of the porch. You, Italy and Japan made one after dinner. It was a fun night.
...
It was a short car ride, but it could have been a long walk. You wave goodbye and thank America as he drives in another direction. The college at eight in the morning continued to be bustling with students who had early morning classes. It is also the best time to line up at the office. It is considered a small college, and although the buildings had three floors it stretched to about five to six stories and connected around a courtyard. You always liked walking in the courtyard, trees stretched nearly as high as the buildings, and when it was fall, the leaves shone red and orange. Now, they are bare, sleeping. The flowers near the office have fallen asleep too to your disappointment.
You touch the handle, about to open it, when you hear a sharp sound. You froze for a second, discovering what it was, and instantly whipped out your cell phone and dialed the three numbers. You take a quick glance through the glass door to see if people were doing the same thing, they were. So, it wasn't in that building, then where?
"911 what's your emergency?"
"I-"
You hear another shot, but it made your ears ring this time. "Fuck," you hastily look around and start hearing screaming from the building in front of you. "Gunshots heard at-"
Students and faculty burst out of the doors as you turn to start running to the parking lot as well, but all of a sudden. Rapid fire. You drop to your knees and lie on your stomach, but you cried out as your face scraped against the cold rough ground. You then realize, the pain wasn't coming from your face, but your waist. You were afraid to turn over, but you heard whimpers behind you and someone uncontrollably bawling. Your heart couldn't stop thumping loudly as your breathing went rapid.
He is wearing boots, you can hear him motioning his way closer and closer. Each step made your breath tighten, "SHUT UP!" he yelled at the one crying. You cautiously turn your head and see a young woman being held down by her friend who tries to cover her mouth. You gasp at the body next to her, dying the ground with red. You then hear the police woman's voice from your phone loud and clear.
"Ma'am?"
You freeze as he cocks his head at you.
"Ma'am, are you still there?"
"Fuck." You didn't dare to grab the phone, but he still walked up and tossed it away with his foot.
"Roll over," he commanded.
Using your hands, you tried to push yourself over, but there was a stinging pain on your left side. You didn't want to roll using your right side though, because that is where he stood. "Ah!" you try moving as quickly as possible, but everything screamed how painful it is. Yet, you did it, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily, unable to see your wounds. He looked as normal as any other college kid did. He was dressed in a white collared shirt, it surprisingly had no sight of blood as well as his black pants, unless you couldn't see it. His face, however, had no emotion.
"That your phone?" he points with the gun in his right hand.
"Yes."
"You know," he spoke so normally, "I am a pretty good shot." He spins around checking if everyone was still on the ground. You felt the tears welling up and pouring down your cheeks. Helplessly, you look up at the sky, it was hardly blue, more like grey. "I hardly miss, and I don't want to ruin the record I have going on now." He kneels with one knee and presses the cold metal at your forehead, "I hope you unde-"
You shut your eyes, but hear a struggle and a clatter. You open them to see America attempting to pin the boy's hands down, and when he succeeded, he flipped him over with a hand clutching his wrists. You see everyone standing up, and people coming out of the buildings. You hear students crying whether because they were scared or lost someone.
You turn your head away, touch your left side, feeling raw skin, knowing the bullet ripped through your dress, and lift your fingers up. To no shock there is blood. It must have been a graze, but it hurt so fucking much. A student tried sitting you up, but you fell on your right side and groaned, refusing to move as more people tried to encourage you. You feel yourself scooped up and lifted. His hand gripped your shoulder and your legs securely and you felt safe.
"America..." your wounded side pressed against his stomach. "Your shirt will get stained..." you look up instead to see, "Russia?"
"Are you okay, my kotyonok?"
"I just want to go home."