Chapter 8

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Russia POV
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" Are you okay," asked Russia after a few moments of silence.

" I'm fine," said America," It's not the first time I've seen something awful."

" But you've never seen that before," said Russia quietly, his comment was followed by more silence.

" I'm okay really," said America," Are YOU okay?"

" I'm fine," said Russia. As if the universe found it funny a sharp stab of pain shot through his hip and up his back. He grimaced and gripped the couch, which he was sitting on.

" Are you sure about that," said America, sounding skeptical.

" I just think I over did it," said Russia," I'm just gonna rest."

" Okay," said America. He stood and grabbed Russia's arm, then helped him to his feet," Where's the bedroom?"

At this point, Russia was panicking," U-Umm, why?"

" So you can rest," said America.

" O-Oh," said Russia," It's down the hall."

America helped Russia limp to the bedroom, leaving his walking stick by the door. Russia sat down on the bed, grimacing at the pain in his hip.

" What's wrong," said America," Is it your hip, what did Germany give you for that."

" Painkillers," said Russia, clutching his hip and grimacing.

America ran back to the living room and came back with the first aid kit," Which one are the painkillers?"

" Those," said Russia, pointing at the small pills.

" How many?"

" Two."

Russia swallowed the pills, waiting for the pain to go away.

" I'll leave you to rest," said America," Just take it easy."

Russia nodded then laid down.

And only after America shut the door, walked back into the living room, and sat down on the couch. Did he realize why Russia had been confused about his bedroom question.

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