[He blinks. And blinks again, only to see that the words don't change. Frowns. Thinks about responding, and all of the responses bubble up - why the hell would she talk to you, why the hell do you know her name, why the FUCK are you talking about me and why did you meet and how and no - no no no no no no no no and N. O.
What he does is march himself right over to Russia's door. And if the bastard doesn't answer? He'll keep going.]
His comm gets tossed on the bed, elbows on knees and hands in his hair and---Russia waits, fidgets, wants to get up and go to Netherlands. REalizes that's a worse idea and hunches in on himself to prevent it. He doesn't want to be waiting here in his own room like a teenage girl waiting for a text from her crush and that's all this feels like. Which is right around the time there's a knock on his door and--no why are you here you're not supposed to be here Netherlands, jeez, this conversation's going to be worse in person.
He practically teleports to the door. Rips it open and stares silently.]
[By then a third of the rage is marched out, tapped out, only for him to grip the door frame like it's a mast and the ship is sinking as he levels back the stare he had prepared for this. Which is all sorts of not pleased, because out of everyone around he never expected the two of them to turn on him.
And even then he doesn't know if it's turning. He's just not sure where he is, no map to go on. He was using Russia at one end and Heather at the other, one anchor in what they could've been and one in what could be, but either way he thought himself settled enough. Silent stares hit a bit too hard. So he lets himself in, flops right on the couch after the requisite three kisses. and maybe more lingering than he intends If he weren't so nervous he'd bitch about the lack of coffee.]
[Something in Russia's gaze softens at the look in Netherlands' eyes. There's a bit of desperation there, enough that he wants to apologize, and Russia hardly ever apologizes. So with a murmured hey, he leans on in and returns those kisses, might be a bit more relaxed given that Netherlands initiated it.
Russia's tempted to join him on the couch, but it's a bit unspoken that that's Netherlands' space as long as he's here and there's enough tension already. So he settles at the edge of his bed, elbows at knees and takes his time looking over Netherlands as if searching for some new bruise or wound. He might also be avoiding the topic--but aren't they both?]
[No new bruises or wounds, just thinner than usual and not exactly tired, but weary - as soon as he catches Russia's look he sits up straighter. More presentable. Now that he's here he suddenly doesn't know what to do with himself, or how to explain why he's so agitated and surprised (more like shocked) that they've been talking about him. He curls both arms over his stomach and glances to the space beside him, like he can't decide if he wants to offer it or not, then huffs as he realizes what he's thinking and lets his shoulders slump. Not wanting to give up a goddamn couch space, that's a new low. He keeps his head tilted toward it anyway, but looks up at Russia when he speaks.]
You guys were -
[And there he shrugs with one shoulder, because even he realizes that "you guys were talking about me" isn't a thing he's supposed to get upset over. Dumbass thing to get upset over, especially when he can't even articulate the reasons.]
[Given the lack of bruises or wounds, he'd see fit to relax normally. But instead Russia notes that thinness and frowns, as if he has to nickpick at something and he doesn't like it. It bothers him a bit that he thinks that, that he worries over Netherlands to this extent.
And then he pauses, thinks about the answer. Finally settles upon:]
Worried.
[That's enough of an answer right? Because he doesn't want to really think about just why this means so much to him. And honestly he doesn't want to think on Heather and her part in this either, because that's already complicated too.]
[Why not just talk to him themselves, that's the weird part. He sighs and shifts to something lazier, crosses his ankles and picks at his sleeve as he thinks. Okay. So Heather's... kind of avoiding him. And Russia isn't at all. So. That might be the explanation, but all he does is sink down a little further and keep back yet another sigh as pretty much all the anger seeps out. Worried, Russia says, and ironically that worries him.]
Yeah?
[Not that he doesn't believe it. He just wants specifics and doesn't want to push for them all at once, doesn't want Russia of all people to get upset with him, too.]
Mm. [One hand finds it's way into his hair again, tugs at the strands falling about his face as he thinks. There's plenty of answers he could offer, plenty of questions he could ask too. But half those questions? Might draw attention on the mask he's hiding away and continued to use, and Russia can't risk that even though he knows what it can cause. And if it doesn't do that? Well, then it'll bring forth all sorts of questions about feelings and all he doesn't know if he can bring himself to answer.
His gaze sweeps up, holds steady in some show of trust. Tries to say something and can't, shrugs a shoulder and tries again.]
She thinks you're supposed to be restin'. [A bit of a sardonic smile, as if he knows how well that'll go over. But that smooths out soon enough.] You're important to her, you know.
[He's curious, jealous, worried. Wants to keep her away, wants to bring her closer and figure out how she ticks. It's frustrating and he can't do anything about it. Won't go down that road again unless he has to. (And though he's answering questions, he's not speaking about how he feels on things yet.)]
[He's halfway through a huff and an eyeroll, mouth open to bitch about how he rests just fine goddamnit, there's nothing wrong with sleeping in the Gardens and half the reason he keeps doing it is because he actually sleeps better there, and then he just. Blinks. And snaps it shut. Tries to lock down on how jittery that makes him feel but he ends up biting his lip and shaking his foot anyway, stare leveled at Russia even though he wants to look down at the floor.
Busted, but Russia kind of is too, because he's the guy he's having this conversation with. Not Heather. So Russia says you're important to her and it's exactly the same kind of shit he'd pull if he was trying to avoid talking about himself. It's weird that he's so used to it that he basically hears what isn't said there - you're important to me too - and that's why he doesn't look away.]
Yeah. I - guess. [No, he knows, he's just being sulky. It's cleared up after a little huff, because even for him that dismissal of her was kind of rude. Then it's back to his more normal style of bitching that doubles as poking fun.] Gotta be, if she's botherin' you over it.
[In the end he could care less about how jittery this conversation makes Netherlands (he's lying) and just keeps their gazes locked, watches to figure out just how well he's listening. And if Netherlands had stated that? That the garden lets him sleep better? He might give in and just let him do his own thing, though sleeping in trees is a bit much Netherlands.... Wouldn't be happy about it--but Russia knows enough about not being able to sleep that he wouldn't put up much of a fight. He'd just let Heather deal with it.
And...he's, rather sure Netherlands can see past him now. So he doesn't have to bother with saying anything else, yes, that's good.
He snorts, smiles a bit into the turn of his wrist in an effort not to laugh. Winds up wincing instead.] Yeah, well, she might of learned her lesson with that.
[No Russia it takes more bitching to scare away Heather...]
[The sleeping thing was forgotten in the face of feelings and what to do with them, and still is, though his jittery caution is abandoned when Russia just snorts and goes along with it. Or at least he feels less need to pick around his words and keep track of what his body's saying, even though perks up and his gaze goes a little sharper with the phrase learned her lesson.
He gives a little frown and raises a brow. Why, what'd you do, Russia? While it's not suspicious it is curious, and he knows the guy has an odd sense of humor but there's still protectiveness - over both, strangely - that he can't tamp down.]
[He holds his hands up in a gesture of good will, though really it means very little.]
Didn't do anything to her. [Yeah okay sincere moment over he's quirking a brow at that little frown and waiting for Netherlands to attempt to figure some weird meaning behind that sentence. But Russia figures there's at least a measure of protectiveness for Heather, and a bit for him too given that stare and well, the past few months. So he just tips his head to the side and shrugs.]
She was rude, I was rude back. [If you hadn't figured out he was a child by now, this should seal it.]
[Of course he tries to sniff out any loophole there, but it's more that it's in his nature to do so than actual suspicion. If something big had gone down he would've heard about it from - well, one of them - already. Probably. He's more worried about Heather just because between the two of them she'd lose unless she was armed and he wasn't, although if the latter was the case, well. Either way it doesn't matter now, it just sounds like they were brats to each other.
Kind of amusing to think about, actually, if he didn't feel kind of emotionally wiped already he'd be snorting over it and sniping something.]
That before or after the two of ya yapped about me.
[Which coming from most people would be a passive-agressive sort of jab, but with him it's not. Just an almost bored-sounding demand for the facts while he wonders how to bring up the actual issue, which isn't only sleeping in the Gardens from the sound of it.]
[They're the worst brats with each other, really. But for the time being, there's no threat of them trying to kill each other (and if he really wanted to, well.....) so Russia just shrugs and lets his lips turn up into a little smile. There's a little thoughtful hum, a flash of teeth as he nibbles his lip.]
A bit of both, really.
[It wasn't the first "talk" they'd had about him, after all. Nor would it be the last.]
[At that he does snort. It's a wonder they got anything done at all, and he's almost impressed, but better not encourage it. Again he glances over at the seat beside him, wonders if this'll be easier or harder to do while looking at each other (and that distance between, some part of his brain keeps seeing fit to remind him).]
[Rude, don't speak like they're children!!! (Spoilers: They are.) That said, the instant Netherlands says he's going to stay down in the gardens anyway, Russia tenses right on up. His arms cross in front of his chest, shoulders a tense line.]
Not safe. [That's his paranoia talking, because uh, this has been going on for how long and NEtherlands is still walking around?]
[But, yeah. Even as he cocks an eyebrow and sinks into the couch he sees the way Russia gets worked up, and that damned protective streak wants it gone. Even though he really... really... doesn't want to stay in his room. Too many ghosts. Literally. He can feel them watching him, still, and it's wonderful and awful and creepy as hell.
Either way it keeps him up, so he looks at the couch again, then like he's looking through the wall. Debates.]
[Don't you raise your eyebrows at him, mister!!! It's not like he's being unreasonably paranoid and demanding----oh wait. Nevermind.
That said, Russia's on the edge of fidgeting, a frown settling on his lips as Netherlands explains further. Sort of. And as soon as Netherlands looks away, looks back and goes off woolgathering (again), Russia's huffing and curling in closer on himself, at the edge of his bed and looking as if he just wants to stride across and settle next to Netherlands and never let him leave again.
He pauses, rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. Sighs.]
I see. [He's...not going to look at Netherlands for a long moment, and when he does, it's to stare him down, look over and see how that's effecting him.] Don't like it either way.
[While he might not huff like he wants to (and he wants to) he does frown and fix an unamused stare right back. There's nothing terrible about sleeping in the Gardens, except that apparently two people he's close to can't stand it when he does it. That, and he isn't taking Lodewijk with him just in case which really sucks. But if Russia's that worked up about it then fine.]
Would ya rather I sleep here, or what.
[It's half a challenge and half an offer, because the stare stays level but he starts drumming his fingers up his arm while he waits on the counter to that.]
[He's not about to have a hissy fit---but Russia is rather obviously displeased, and considering it is Russia of all people...Well, he's about to argue back when that offer? challenge? whatever it is hits him and he's left floundering for a handful of seconds.
And then he's scowling and looking away and back, unsure and needing to keep Netherlands in sight and--he offers a short shrug.]
You practically live here anyway. [It's murmured, unsure, not entirely truthful and they both know it, but--he nods.] Could make Lodewijk a place too, y'know.
[And he finally just flat out fidgets, gaze slanting off to the side and back, as if he can't look away for very long for whatever reason.] Unless that was a joke--?
[The entire time Russia's flustering through what to say he keeps doing exactly what he was doing, level stare, drumming his fingers, all that, just because to change it up might make the guy even more flustered. Not that he knows that's why he does it, but whatever. In fact he stays that way, other than a tilt of his head at the mention of a place for Lodewijk, right up Russia asks if it was a joke - then both brows shoot down, confused, and then way up because seriously what the fuck.]
Was that a joke. 'Cause it sucked.
[With that he sighs and leans his head back to glance up at the sunflowers, wonders if Lodewijk would try to eat them. That... wouldn't go over well.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[text]
No
Heard
[text]
[A long pause. And---okay he's not even really hiding the concern. It's gotten to that point.]
Don't go sleeping in the gardens, isn't safe.
[text]
Heard from who
[text]
Heather.
[not even]
What he does is march himself right over to Russia's door. And if the bastard doesn't answer? He'll keep going.]
jeez, touchy >:TTTT
His comm gets tossed on the bed, elbows on knees and hands in his hair and---Russia waits, fidgets, wants to get up and go to Netherlands. REalizes that's a worse idea and hunches in on himself to prevent it. He doesn't want to be waiting here in his own room like a teenage girl waiting for a text from her crush and that's all this feels like. Which is right around the time there's a knock on his door and--no why are you here you're not supposed to be here Netherlands, jeez, this conversation's going to be worse in person.
He practically teleports to the door. Rips it open and stares silently.]
hurr?
And even then he doesn't know if it's turning. He's just not sure where he is, no map to go on. He was using Russia at one end and Heather at the other, one anchor in what they could've been and one in what could be, but either way he thought himself settled enough. Silent stares hit a bit too hard. So he lets himself in, flops right on the couch after the requisite three kisses.
and maybe more lingering than he intends
If he weren't so nervous he'd bitch about the lack of coffee.]
oh i forgot i typed that, whoops
Russia's tempted to join him on the couch, but it's a bit unspoken that that's Netherlands' space as long as he's here and there's enough tension already. So he settles at the edge of his bed, elbows at knees and takes his time looking over Netherlands as if searching for some new bruise or wound. He might also be avoiding the topic--but aren't they both?]
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You guys were -
[And there he shrugs with one shoulder, because even he realizes that "you guys were talking about me" isn't a thing he's supposed to get upset over. Dumbass thing to get upset over, especially when he can't even articulate the reasons.]
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And then he pauses, thinks about the answer. Finally settles upon:]
Worried.
[That's enough of an answer right? Because he doesn't want to really think about just why this means so much to him. And honestly he doesn't want to think on Heather and her part in this either, because that's already complicated too.]
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[Why not just talk to him themselves, that's the weird part. He sighs and shifts to something lazier, crosses his ankles and picks at his sleeve as he thinks. Okay. So Heather's... kind of avoiding him. And Russia isn't at all. So. That might be the explanation, but all he does is sink down a little further and keep back yet another sigh as pretty much all the anger seeps out. Worried, Russia says, and ironically that worries him.]
Yeah?
[Not that he doesn't believe it. He just wants specifics and doesn't want to push for them all at once, doesn't want Russia of all people to get upset with him, too.]
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His gaze sweeps up, holds steady in some show of trust. Tries to say something and can't, shrugs a shoulder and tries again.]
She thinks you're supposed to be restin'. [A bit of a sardonic smile, as if he knows how well that'll go over. But that smooths out soon enough.] You're important to her, you know.
[He's curious, jealous, worried. Wants to keep her away, wants to bring her closer and figure out how she ticks. It's frustrating and he can't do anything about it. Won't go down that road again unless he has to. (And though he's answering questions, he's not speaking about how he feels on things yet.)]
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Busted, but Russia kind of is too, because he's the guy he's having this conversation with. Not Heather. So Russia says you're important to her and it's exactly the same kind of shit he'd pull if he was trying to avoid talking about himself. It's weird that he's so used to it that he basically hears what isn't said there - you're important to me too - and that's why he doesn't look away.]
Yeah. I - guess. [No, he knows, he's just being sulky. It's cleared up after a little huff, because even for him that dismissal of her was kind of rude. Then it's back to his more normal style of bitching that doubles as poking fun.] Gotta be, if she's botherin' you over it.
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And...he's, rather sure Netherlands can see past him now. So he doesn't have to bother with saying anything else, yes, that's good.
He snorts, smiles a bit into the turn of his wrist in an effort not to laugh. Winds up wincing instead.] Yeah, well, she might of learned her lesson with that.
[No Russia it takes more bitching to scare away Heather...]
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He gives a little frown and raises a brow. Why, what'd you do, Russia? While it's not suspicious it is curious, and he knows the guy has an odd sense of humor but there's still protectiveness - over both, strangely - that he can't tamp down.]
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Didn't do anything to her. [Yeah okay sincere moment over he's quirking a brow at that little frown and waiting for Netherlands to attempt to figure some weird meaning behind that sentence. But Russia figures there's at least a measure of protectiveness for Heather, and a bit for him too given that stare and well, the past few months. So he just tips his head to the side and shrugs.]
She was rude, I was rude back. [If you hadn't figured out he was a child by now, this should seal it.]
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Kind of amusing to think about, actually, if he didn't feel kind of emotionally wiped already he'd be snorting over it and sniping something.]
That before or after the two of ya yapped about me.
[Which coming from most people would be a passive-agressive sort of jab, but with him it's not. Just an almost bored-sounding demand for the facts while he wonders how to bring up the actual issue, which isn't only sleeping in the Gardens from the sound of it.]
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A bit of both, really.
[It wasn't the first "talk" they'd had about him, after all. Nor would it be the last.]
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Got it.
[Back, forth, back, forth. Indecision sure sucks.]
Still gonna sleep down there, though.
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Not safe. [That's his paranoia talking, because uh, this has been going on for how long and NEtherlands is still walking around?]
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S'fine.
[But, yeah. Even as he cocks an eyebrow and sinks into the couch he sees the way Russia gets worked up, and that damned protective streak wants it gone. Even though he really... really... doesn't want to stay in his room. Too many ghosts. Literally. He can feel them watching him, still, and it's wonderful and awful and creepy as hell.
Either way it keeps him up, so he looks at the couch again, then like he's looking through the wall. Debates.]
Sleep like shit in my room. Right now.
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That said, Russia's on the edge of fidgeting, a frown settling on his lips as Netherlands explains further. Sort of. And as soon as Netherlands looks away, looks back and goes off woolgathering (again), Russia's huffing and curling in closer on himself, at the edge of his bed and looking as if he just wants to stride across and settle next to Netherlands and never let him leave again.
He pauses, rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. Sighs.]
I see. [He's...not going to look at Netherlands for a long moment, and when he does, it's to stare him down, look over and see how that's effecting him.] Don't like it either way.
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Would ya rather I sleep here, or what.
[It's half a challenge and half an offer, because the stare stays level but he starts drumming his fingers up his arm while he waits on the counter to that.]
god these losers
And then he's scowling and looking away and back, unsure and needing to keep Netherlands in sight and--he offers a short shrug.]
You practically live here anyway. [It's murmured, unsure, not entirely truthful and they both know it, but--he nods.] Could make Lodewijk a place too, y'know.
[And he finally just flat out fidgets, gaze slanting off to the side and back, as if he can't look away for very long for whatever reason.] Unless that was a joke--?
so dumb
Was that a joke. 'Cause it sucked.
[With that he sighs and leans his head back to glance up at the sunflowers, wonders if Lodewijk would try to eat them. That... wouldn't go over well.]
Hafta tell him not to touch those.
boys pls. just hug it out.
but they'd never stop fff
shit you're right
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