Antihumanism [3/?]
anonymous
June 3 2009, 01:40:06 UTC
Anon would like to thank the lovely person who helped edit this. Also, anon thinks there won't be too many parts left. :)
America didn’t look anyone in the eyes. He kept all of his ideas to himself, that way there was less to be shot down about, because even though it was his own problem, he knew that he would get shit about it from around the globe.
He stared at the folder in his hands as Germany spoke. Like England had said about himself, he couldn’t concentrate on other’s countries problems right now. He had his own to deal with and why was everything going wrong at the same time?
It was only half of him and Alfred felt as thought he was being ripped apart. Parts of his body felt as thought they were in the wrong place, and every now and then his glasses would become foggy. He wondered if Texas was just fucking with him.
He took them off and rubbed his temples. He didn’t really need them right now anyways.
“Fag.” Someone had coughed. Alfred looked up, but no one looked as though they’d said a thing, so he let it slide. The second time he heard the demeaning phrase he slammed a fist down in the table, but that was as far as his anger went.
“Please! Just let me get through this.”
The room seemed to take on a chill.
…
He couldn’t stop hearing the protests in his head. They’d been continually growing stronger, and his forehead felt as though it was being kicked in and no amount of ibuprofin would quell the noise and angry thumping in his skull.
When the meeting was over he slowly gathered his papers. His body was sore, too sore to move with his usually quickness, and fuck, he thought, I hope getting old doesn’t feel like this. But that was exactly what the problem was doing to him. Aging and dragging the American down.
He arose from his seat only to come face to face with a flustered Ivan.
“You could never do anything right could you? You can’t make proper decisions!” a finger poked his chest. “Don’t tell me how to treat my people or tell me what’s right for them when yours can’t even decide themselves!” Instead of a finger jabbing into his chest again, a large hand was wrapped around his throat. Russia slammed him into the wall and released a gasping America who crumpled to the floor.
Alfred supposed he deserved that.
The Russian wiped the hand that held him onto his coat and walked away.
France sneered at him. “You finally found someone who just might love a connard like you and you fuck it up. You are young, dear, too young. When you choose to do something make sure you can stick to it.” France did have a point, but couldn’t he have picked a better time of stating his views then when Alfred was near the verge of a breakdown, lying against a wall? Then again, Francis always did like to fish in troubled waters.
God, his head hurt so bad.
Alfred lay there for a minute, with his head down, before he heard shuffling near him. He looked up to see an identical face.
Matthew smiled and offered the other blonde his hand.
“I know I’m not the strongest, or the one everyone listens to, but…you’ll get through this.”
By this point Alfred didn’t care if there were any countries left to watch him. As Matthew helped him up, he pulled himself closer to his brother and embraced him.
The other blonde stood still for a moment before wrapping his hands around Alfred’s waist.
“Thanks. It mean’s a lot, you know.”
Matthew blushed a bit. “We’re brothers, it’s what we’re supposed to do. Now come on,” He gave Alfred a small smile. “Let’s get you back to Arthur.”
America didn’t look anyone in the eyes. He kept all of his ideas to himself, that way there was less to be shot down about, because even though it was his own problem, he knew that he would get shit about it from around the globe.
He stared at the folder in his hands as Germany spoke. Like England had said about himself, he couldn’t concentrate on other’s countries problems right now. He had his own to deal with and why was everything going wrong at the same time?
It was only half of him and Alfred felt as thought he was being ripped apart. Parts of his body felt as thought they were in the wrong place, and every now and then his glasses would become foggy. He wondered if Texas was just fucking with him.
He took them off and rubbed his temples. He didn’t really need them right now anyways.
“Fag.” Someone had coughed. Alfred looked up, but no one looked as though they’d said a thing, so he let it slide. The second time he heard the demeaning phrase he slammed a fist down in the table, but that was as far as his anger went.
“Please! Just let me get through this.”
The room seemed to take on a chill.
…
He couldn’t stop hearing the protests in his head. They’d been continually growing stronger, and his forehead felt as though it was being kicked in and no amount of ibuprofin would quell the noise and angry thumping in his skull.
When the meeting was over he slowly gathered his papers. His body was sore, too sore to move with his usually quickness, and fuck, he thought, I hope getting old doesn’t feel like this. But that was exactly what the problem was doing to him. Aging and dragging the American down.
He arose from his seat only to come face to face with a flustered Ivan.
“You could never do anything right could you? You can’t make proper decisions!” a finger poked his chest. “Don’t tell me how to treat my people or tell me what’s right for them when yours can’t even decide themselves!” Instead of a finger jabbing into his chest again, a large hand was wrapped around his throat. Russia slammed him into the wall and released a gasping America who crumpled to the floor.
Alfred supposed he deserved that.
The Russian wiped the hand that held him onto his coat and walked away.
France sneered at him. “You finally found someone who just might love a connard like you and you fuck it up. You are young, dear, too young. When you choose to do something make sure you can stick to it.” France did have a point, but couldn’t he have picked a better time of stating his views then when Alfred was near the verge of a breakdown, lying against a wall? Then again, Francis always did like to fish in troubled waters.
God, his head hurt so bad.
Alfred lay there for a minute, with his head down, before he heard shuffling near him. He looked up to see an identical face.
Matthew smiled and offered the other blonde his hand.
“I know I’m not the strongest, or the one everyone listens to, but…you’ll get through this.”
By this point Alfred didn’t care if there were any countries left to watch him. As Matthew helped him up, he pulled himself closer to his brother and embraced him.
The other blonde stood still for a moment before wrapping his hands around Alfred’s waist.
“Thanks. It mean’s a lot, you know.”
Matthew blushed a bit. “We’re brothers, it’s what we’re supposed to do. Now come on,” He gave Alfred a small smile. “Let’s get you back to Arthur.”
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