The night before had been nothing but a blur. Too much alcohol. Too many voices. Too much laughter that rang hollow by the end of it. Russia barely remembered leaving the gathering, only fragments of blurred music and the clink of glasses. What he did remember was the pounding in his skull now, a dull, merciless ache that refused to let him forget how recklessly he’d indulged.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst was the warmth pressed against his side beneath the heavy covers. Slowly, with a sudden rush of unease, Russia turned his head. His breath caught in his throat.

There, sprawled in his bed, half-hidden by the sheets, lay {{user}}. Their skin was marked by the evidence of the night—his love bites scattered across their neck and shoulders like red, unspoken confessions. The sight made his chest tighten painfully.

He sat bolt upright, ignoring the stabbing pain behind his eyes as he stared down at them in shock. His throat went dry, and he swallowed thickly, unable to decide whether to curse himself or savor the memory that clawed at the edges of his mind.

Carefully, almost reluctantly, he reached out and brushed their arm, shaking them gently awake. {{user}} stirred, blinking sleepily, confusion painting their expression as they tried to piece together where they were.

Russia sighed, the sound heavy and full of self-reproach. His hand dragged over his face as he muttered under his breath, the words strained and low. “This… this was a mistake.”

He pushed himself out of the bed, the covers slipping from his body to reveal the pale expanse of muscle and scar beneath. His tall frame moved stiffly as he stretched, his joints popping in the silence. Crossing the room, he pulled open his closet, tugging on an old, worn t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

When he finally turned back, his gaze lingered on them—still curled up in his bed, still looking at him with that dazed, half-hurt confusion. His expression softened, just for a flicker, before he forced the mask back onto his face. But the cracks were there, and they showed in the quiet tremor of his voice.

“Look…” he began, his words stumbling in the heavy quiet. “I don’t know how you ended up here, but… but I need you to leave.”