A Family (Russia, Belarus, and OC)~Request

            “You can’t run from my any longer, big brother. Why won’t you just marry me?”

            “WAAAAAAAHHH!”

            I stood on my employer’s top stoop, listening to was happening behind the wooden doors and glancing around in anxiety. I was quite a surprise when Russia called me. Not because he didn’t talk to me much—the contrary, actually. It was because it three in the morning on a week night, another World Meeting scheduled for the next day. Sighing, I brushed some stray hairs away from my tired eyes and answered the phone.

            “M-Moscow! Thank goodness, you picked up…” I heard Russia’s voice on the other line, talking in a hushed tone. If I was mistaken, he sounded a little out of breath, and…afraid? That only concerned me more.

            “Mr. Russia, what’s going on?” I said, a little bit of anxiety to slipping in without my notice. “Look, I really need you to do this favor for me…I-I can’t explain what t is right now, because--” In the background, I heard something break and a woman’s voice, followed by a shriek.

            “Just come to my house as soon as possible, da!?” Then the line went dead.

            I brought the phone away from my ear, staring at it in disbelief. I-Is he…going to be okay? I’d weathered countless spats with the man, knowing good and well that he’d been to Hell in back, as the saying goes. Yet, I’d never seen him experience fear. Loneliness, yes, but not something as mortifying as this. He almost sounded like Latvia…

            Pulling on a thick jacket and pants, I sped off towards Russia’s home. A few months back, he had shown me his place, and even given me the key. Since that day, I’ve always that of him as a brother—I wouldn’t actually tell him that, of course, that’d be outrageous! Still, as his pretend sister, I had to do my best to help him, no matter how heart-wrenchingly terrible it was.

            I pulled into the driveway of an old, dark mansion, rats and mice of different shapes and sizes scuttling in and out of the shadows. This was definitely the place.

            Taking what I guess you could call reassuring breath, I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the door slamming behind me. I wasn’t sure what I expected see—nuclear war taking place inside of his house wasn’t too farfetched, was it?—but Russia cowering underneath a table and Belarus skulking around him wasn’t it. As soon as he saw me, he tried to wipe a few tears from his eyes, blushing. He mouthed the words ‘Help me!’ over and over again.

            Help him? How? I knew I couldn’t possibly harm my boss’s sister (She looked like she could end me in five seconds flat anyway), and if he was so scared of her, it must be for good reason. Suddenly, I thought back to one of my favorite book series: Sherlock Holmes. What would he do? I thought. Within a few short seconds, I had my plan. Adjusting my glasses, I walked towards the skulking woman, trying with all my might to smile casually.

            “Hello, Belarus! I haven’t had a chance to talk to you in such a long time,” I cooed, expressing a lot more emotion than I normally would. She whipped her head to me, eyes widened in rage, confusion, disgust, or all of the above. My façade had gotten her to stop walking towards Russia, but my job wasn’t done yet.

            Still keeping up the smile, I made my way over to a tattered coach, beckoning her over. Hesitantly she complied, plopping herself beside me with an unmasked frown. I could only pray she forgot her knife at home.

            “So how have you been? Did you ever fini-”

            “Did big brother call you?”

            I gulped. Had she seen through me that easily!? I thought Holmes said it would be elementary to lull her into a false since of security. Then, Russia could sneak out while she was distracted! It was the perfect plan! With a nervous smile, I waved my hands in denial.

            “N-No, of course not! What could possibly make you think that?” I cried, mentally writing my will. I saw her expression change, and immediately saw my life flash in front of my eyes. There was no going back now. All there was left to do was stand up and take the pain.

            …But, surprisingly enough, she didn’t kill me like I thought she would. Even more surprisingly, she started crying. Let me say that again.

    Belarus.

    Was.

    Crying.

    That in itself was scary, though I still felt partly responsible for it. Man, I’m feeling an unusual amount of emotion today. It’s getting annoying. With a shaky hand, I reached out to pat her on the back. She flinched as soon as my hand made contact—unused to it, I assume—but quickly eased into it with a strangled sob.

    “W-Why doesn’t big brother love me?” she wept, looking at the floor. “It’s not fair…! Am I not good enough to call a wife?”

    “Well…you’re a great person, Belarus,” I stated, fumbling for nice things to say. “You’re, um…pretty! Yeah, tons of the other nations find you attractive. Also, you’re love for your brother is really…devoted. I can tell you for sure that I’ve never met a more devoted lover my entire life.”

    It was true, but I wouldn’t necessarily call it a compliment. Sobs dying down to faint sniffles, Belarus looked up at me, a small smile on her lips.

    “…R-Really?”

    “Really,” I smiled. Not a feigned, fake smile. A happy, genuine smile. Perhaps Belarus isn’t all that bad. She’s just like the rest of us, looking for love…

    Suddenly, she scooted closer to me, small smile growing wider and more crooked. “Moscow…how do you feel about big brother?”

    “B-Big broth- I mean, Mr. Russia?” I stuttered. I sent a small glance over to the table Russia had been under. He was nowhere in sight. He must have escaped already.

    With a conflicted sigh, I answered, “…I think of him as my brother, Belarus.”

    “So you love him, too?”

    “Yes, I guess you could say so.”

    I almost peed myself when Russia popped up from behind the couch, uttering a cute “Really? That’s so nice of you, Moscow!” Belarus wasn’t having it, though. Grabbing a switchblade from the hem of her dress, pointed it at my in rage.

    “I won’t let you have him!”

    “B-Belarus, why are you so scary?!”

    “What has my life turned into?”