A/N: No, I have not abandoned this story. It's just that life sucks and I made the fatal mistake of starting two new long stories. I'm sorry if this chapter is only mediocre at best. I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer, though, and I sort of skimmed through this while I was editing, so there's probably going to be a few mistakes. This chapter might also seem a bit boring.

At first, America hadn't been too keen on the fact that he had to wake up early in order to say goodbye to his brother. After all, he'd finally fallen asleep somewhere around eleven o'clock, and was awoken at five in the morning. However, after having a decent breakfast, and being provided with a half hour in order to wake up fully, America was beginning to feel a bit more enthusiastic about the day. Despite the fact that he was not only sleep deprived, but he would have to wait for a while in order to see his brother again.

Once Canada had all of his belongings packed, and was in the living room near the front door, Russia and America had decided to gather around him. Russia was the first one to speak, "We're going to miss you, Matvey. Feel free to visit again whenever you'd like."

After this was said, Russia stepped towards Canada so that he could pull the shy nation into a tight hug. The affection caused Canada to blush with slight embarrassment, as if he wasn't used to being hugged. Once he seemed to have regained some of his composure, though, he finally decided to reply, "Th-thanks for the offer."

Once Canada was freed of the embrace, he decided to face his brother and say, "Goodbye, Alfred. It was nice to spend some time with you, and I hope that you only continue to get better."

The enthusiasm that America had obtained from that morning immediately faltered after hearing the farewell. It was then that he seemed to remember that his brother was going to be gone for a while, and that he was going to be stuck in Russia's lonely house until the next meeting. However, America tried to hide this sudden bout of disappointment with a smile, as he replied, "Thanks, I hope things go well for you too."

With that said, Canada exited the house through the front door. Once America made sure that his brother was completely gone from the view of the living room window, he set off towards the couch with despondency. His brother had only been away for five seconds, and he was already beginning to be affected by the lack of company. He didn't understand why it seemed to affect him so much. It wasn't as if he'd ever really felt disappointed when someone had to leave. It was almost as if he was developing some abandonment issues.

In an attempt to try and find a way to rid himself of the empty feeling, he decided to grab the ball of yarn and two needles he was working with. Perhaps doing something productive, yet enjoyable would make his life seem a bit more lively. He hadn't really done much knitting since Russia had tried teaching him, so he figured that doing this might also make up for the fact that he was hardly doing it. Maybe if America knitted the scarf well enough, Russia would even become proud of him. Even if it did make him seem a bit greedy, he did desire to hear a bunch of flattery from the other nation. As far as America was concerned, he didn't really seem to have a talent. Instead, it seemed as if most people thought of him as being full of nothing but flaws. To him, it seemed as if the only thing that wasn't a flaw with him was his super strength. America found it quite funny that it was always those who seemed to be perfect that received the most hate. Especially since he thought of himself as the mirror opposite of those individuals, and yet people were equally as annoyed with him.

After what seemed to be hours of non-stop knitting, America couldn't help but suddenly grow tired of the activity. Therefore, he set the scarf he was working on down. At first, America thought that he was going to be stuck having to sit there in complete boredom. Then, coincidentally, his prediction was immediately debunked, as Russia immediately entered the room and asked him, "Would you like me to take you out to a nice restaurant?"

Shocked by the question, America had no idea how to respond. It'd been quite a while since someone offered to take him out to eat. Perhaps in the past, he would be thrilled with the idea of someone being generous enough to spend a bit of money so that he could have a delicious meal. However, the offer at that moment made him feel both guilty and pressured. The thought of having someone spend a bunch of money just so that he could have a lovely meal was completely cringe-worthy to him. The worst part of it was the fact that he hardly had any money left on him. He'd ended up spending most of it the last time he went shopping with Russia. What made him feel anxious was the fact that he was now being offered to go out in public. The last time he'd gone out (which had only been about five days ago, and he was with the company of both Russia and Canada), he'd felt extremely uncomfortable being around so many people at once. He knew that this was because he'd hardly been socializing with more than two people for quite a long time. It made sense that he was suddenly growing wary around groups of people, but he still wasn't happy about this at all. He found it down right embarrassing.

Despite the fact that he knew Russia wanted to buy him some food at a restaurant, he still decided to use the first excuse that came to his mind, "I don't think that's a good idea right now. I don't think I'll be able to afford it."

"Oh no, Fredka. Don't worry about that," Russia assured, "I was planning on buying you a meal."

With a blush of embarrassment creeping upon his face, America turned his head away from Russia and replied, "Y-yes, I know."

There was a moment of silence before Russia finally said, "You really don't need to feel nervous about this. I don't mind the idea of buying you a meal."

"Yeah, but you've already spent a lot of money on me."

"Please, Fredka? I would really like to spend more time with you outside of the house. Aren't you becoming tired of being stuck in this house all the time?"

America thought about this for a few moments. It didn't seem as if Russia really wanted to take no for an answer. Why Russia was so dead set on buying him a meal, America had no idea, as he would've thought that most people would be angry with him is he wasn't able to pay for his own food. At first, he was hesitant to reply. Sure, he was sort of becoming less guilty about the fact that he couldn't pay for his own meal, but that didn't stop him from feeling nervous about the idea of being surrounded by a bunch of stranger. Eventually though, he was able to push himself to reply, as he didn't want to keep Russia waiting for a reply or disappoint him, "Okay, I'll go."

Russia smiled at this response, and told him, "Why don't you get ready then?"

America complied to the request, but soon after he put on some boats, Russia presented him with a different jacket from the one he was used to wearing. This one looked much less warm than the last one, which made America inquire, "Isn't it cold outside? How come you're giving me something more thin to wear?"

"Yes, it's still a little cold outside," Russia began, "but for whatever reason, it's warm enough outside that the snow is beginning to melt. I don't know why. It usually doesn't at this time of year, but maybe it's only going to be warm for a short while, and we'll go back to having some normal weather."

"But what if its still too cold for me outside? I mean, I know that I've been here for a while, but I'm still not able to handle the cold as well as you can."

"Then I'll just let you wear my jacket."

After that, America finished dressing for the somewhat cold weather before following Russia outside. Once they were out on the front steps however, Russia exclaimed, "I forgot to take care of the steps this morning!"

America jumped at this statement; not at all expecting Russia to raise his voice, as the nation was not one to often do that. Then, he glances down at the steps to find that they were completely covered with wet ice. America wasn't sure how his brother had managed to walk down such slippery looking steps, but at the same time, he just figured that that was something northern nations were able to do without any trouble. Sure, he had Alaska, and some other areas in his country that could become quite chilly at times, but he also had some extremely warm places as well. He knew that back in the older days that there were some people who didn't even know what snow was, and would freak out when they saw it, until someone explained to them what was going on. He was sure that now though, with the media, that everyone had probably at least heard of snow.

Eventually, Russia suppressed a sigh as he stated, "I know that this is probably going to take a while, but why don't you wait while I take care of these steps?"

It was true that America didn't really want to walk down those stairs, since they looked extremely dangerous, yet he was growing tired of feeling hunger claw at his stomach. Therefore, he decided to say, "Why don't we just go anyways? It's only a few steps. And besides, it doesn't look like the pathway to the car is any better anyways."

"Alright, Fredka. But be very careful. I would hate to see you get hurt."

"Okay," and with that said, America began to walk carefully down the steps as Russia followed behind him. Even as he tried to find areas of the steps that weren't slippery, though, and even when he set his foot down slowly and forcefully and grabbed tightly onto the railing, he was still finding it to be extremely hard to keep his balance. Eventually, by the time he reached the third step going down, he felt his gut drop as his foot began to slide. In fact, if it wasn't for the strong arms that grabbed him, and supported him, he was sure that he was going to slip and experience a world full of pain. Soon, he found himself being stood up properly once more. He was sure that there was a high chance that he was probably not going to end up being injured just from slipping down the stairs, but at the same time, he didn't want to imagine how embarrassing and painful that would be. Not that he already didn't find it embarrassing enough that he was feeling shaky at that moment. At the same time though, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the fact that Russia wasn't laughing at him. He knew that many other people in the world would probably end up laughing until they literally died if they saw him not only slip on some ice, but become frightened after doing so. He wasn't going to lie, he would probably laugh if that had happened to another person as well. Instead, Russia wrapped an arm around him and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," America replied, and then asked, "How come you're not laughing about this? I mean, it would be extremely annoying if you were, but I know that a lot of other people would probably laugh until their gut exploded, or something."

"Well, luckily for you, I don't have that sense of humor. Unless someone truly deserved it, I do not see what is so funny about witnessing someone else's adversity."

Then, before the two nations set off down the stairs once more, Russia added, "Try to be more careful."

Fortunately, America didn't seem to have as much trouble navigating towards Russia's car. Nor was he shivering, as he usually did during the other times he'd been outside in Russia. It didn't even seem as if Russia needed to spend a bit of time to heat up the car or rid the windows of any ice or snow, as soon after they entered the car, Russia immediately began to drive.

Not too long afterwards, they were at the restaurant. Once they were inside of the building, America couldn't help but instinctively begin to sort of hide behind Russia. Sure, there weren't too many people in the restaurant, but to America, they were complete strangers, and he hoped that none of them would decide to look at him. Besides, it'd been a while since he'd ever been at a restaurant, so he felt completely out of place at that moment.

Fortunately, though, the waitress didn't delay on bringing them to a table. Sure, America wasn't one-hundred percent sure about what Russia was telling the waitress, but to him, it sounded as if Russia wanted them to sit in some corner. Perhaps the other nation was able to sense the fact that America was feeling extremely nervous at that moment, and wanted to try and make things better for him. At first when they arrived at the table, America was still feeling a bit out of place, but soon enough, when he realized that he was far away from the other people in the restaurant, and that no one would probably even be able to hear them anyways, he was able to relax.

After that, America didn't seem to have a hard time telling the waitress what he wanted to drink. However, he found it to be quite difficult to read the menu, as he didn't really know the name of any Russian dishes, and was hardly able to understand the descriptions of what was being offered. Eventually, after spending quite a while of trying to figure out what the menu said, he eventually gave up, and asked Russia, "I can't read the menu. Do you think you could just order for me? Or maybe tell me what some of these dishes are?"

After a moment of thought, Russia stated, "Well, you could try some pelmeni. There pretty much meat dumplings with diced onions. I'm sure you'll like them."

"That does sound kind of good. I guess I'll have that then."

Despite the fact that the description for the food did seem as if it would be a bit vague to some, America was too hungry at the moment to really care about the complexity of his meal. He wasn't necessarily one to be picky either. When it did come time to order, America couldn't help but appreciate the fact that Russia ordered the meal for him, instead of having him do it himself. After all, America was sure that he would've done a horrible job of ordering his meal, as he couldn't even remember the name of the dish that Russia had recommended to him. There was no way that the waitress would be able to understand him, and would probably eventually end up being ignored for speaking poor Russian.

The wait for the food was long, quite, and agonizing. The scent of food was certainly not helping either. Instead, it seemed to make the hunger pangs he was feeling even worse. He didn't understand why he was feeling so hungry at that moment. He'd had quite a bit for breakfast, and that had only been a few hours ago. Perhaps this was all just a sign that his appetite was really beginning to come back. In a way, he hated it, but at the same time, he was relieved. He was growing sick of not being able to eat much and gagging before he was even able to finish what he deemed a decent amount of food. Besides, eating 'too much' while he lacked an appetite never seemed to make him feel full. Instead, he just felt somewhat hungry, and yet he knew that he would not be able to consume more in order to satisfy his stomach.

At last, the food had finally arrived, and almost as soon as the waitress left, he began to dig in. Apparently though, he must have been eating way too quickly, as he was told by Russia, "Could you please slow down a bit? You're going to choke if you keep forcing so much food down your throat at once."

"I'm sorry," America replied, after swallowing a mouth full of food, "It's just that this food is really good. Almost as good as your cooking."

Russia was taken aback by the compliment. He was almost never praised for his cooking. In all honesty, he didn't even think he was too great at it. Feeling his face begin to heat up, Russia countered, "Are you sure that this food isn't better than my cooking?"

"I don't know, Russia. To me, when it comes to picking which nation can make the best food, you give France quite a bit of competition."

At that point, Russia wasn't even sure if he was able to look at America. There were many things that could easily make Russia become shy, and compliments were one of them, since for him, they were rare to come by. Couple that with the fact that they were coming from his love interest, and they certainly began to mean one-hundred times more to him than a compliment from anyone else. In a quiet, weak voice, Russia found the strength to respond to the praise, "Thank you, Fredka."

By the time they were both finished eating, America couldn't help but feel pleasantly surprised that the meal was actually able to fill him. A warm feeling developed in his stomach. Of course, this feeling was beginning to be more common for America, but he still couldn't help but feel extremely appreciative towards it. Paired with the fact that he was in the company of Russia, the feeling was ten times better than it normally would be. He didn't understand why he was beginning to feel so gleeful around Russia, but considering the fact that he was able to spend a large amount of his time around the other nation, he wasn't about to question it.