Here and Now 3
anonymous
June 8 2011, 19:30:07 UTC
With a sigh, England stood up and walked towards the hotel window, looking out at the dark Boston skyline. “Maybe he simply does not want to talk about it. We all have our sordid pasts that come to haunt us at one point or another.” The face reflected on the glass pane was stern and tinted with a well-hidden sadness. America watched the other nation’s back before looking at the wall. Outside the hotel door a woman was talking to her child as they walked through the halls.
“But Artie,” he muttered, “this is every single night. He doesn’t sleep anymore.”
“He’ll say something eventually.” England looked away from the skyline and drew the curtains closed.
America took a long sigh, the heavy scent of cleaning supplies filling his mouth. “No he won’t. He’s as stubborn as I am.” When England looked as if he were about to retort, he tacked on quietly, “He nearly fainted in a cross walk this afternoon. He could have been hit by a car if I hadn’t pulled him aside.”
Both England and America looked to the floor in thought and America furrowed his hands though his hair, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. The fake golden light from the bedside lamp casted thick shadows over his hands and America stared at them thoughtfully.
“How did you find out?” England asked, cutting through the silence.
America put his glasses back on, brushing his bangs away. “I was talking to Lithuania and he mentioned it. He said Russia looked happy and asked if the nightmares were lessening.” With a sad laugh, America looked away from England and to the wall. “I guess they’ve been going on for years, and I’m only picking up on this now. I just don’t know what to do. How can I be a hero if I can’t do anything?”
America put his head into his hands. “I just don’t want to see him hurt.”
“You really are worried.”
“Of course I’m worried. I love him.” America glanced up at England, honest truth shining in his eyes. England stared back, green eyes flickering as he searched his faced and then folded his hands into his lap, taping his foot slowly against the floor.
“I think I may know one way to help.”
“Really!” America shot out of the chair and stood up, looking to England in a mixture of relief and excitement.
“Hold your tongue, I wasn’t finished.” England’s glare made America’s jaw snap shut and he waited, nearly quivering. When he was satisfied that the younger nation wouldn’t interrupt, he folded his arms and continued, “However, I am not sure if it would work. You’ll have to give me a day to check up and make sure. It may also be dangerous.”
“I don’t care.” America said blandly.
“I know you don’t care, but I would prefer it if you would think once or twice!” England huffed and glared. When all he got in return was America’s flat stare, he shook his head and stood up, motioning that America should make his way to the door. “I’ll think about it. Until then, get out of my room and let me be.” He pushed America out and handed his paperwork to him, shutting the hotel door.
“Thanks Artie!” he said to the shut door and smiled.
He then began to walk towards where Russia was staying in the hotel until they returned to America’s home in Maine when the meetings would be finally over.
With a sigh, England stood up and walked towards the hotel window, looking out at the dark Boston skyline. “Maybe he simply does not want to talk about it. We all have our sordid pasts that come to haunt us at one point or another.” The face reflected on the glass pane was stern and tinted with a well-hidden sadness. America watched the other nation’s back before looking at the wall. Outside the hotel door a woman was talking to her child as they walked through the halls.
“But Artie,” he muttered, “this is every single night. He doesn’t sleep anymore.”
“He’ll say something eventually.” England looked away from the skyline and drew the curtains closed.
America took a long sigh, the heavy scent of cleaning supplies filling his mouth. “No he won’t. He’s as stubborn as I am.” When England looked as if he were about to retort, he tacked on quietly, “He nearly fainted in a cross walk this afternoon. He could have been hit by a car if I hadn’t pulled him aside.”
Both England and America looked to the floor in thought and America furrowed his hands though his hair, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. The fake golden light from the bedside lamp casted thick shadows over his hands and America stared at them thoughtfully.
“How did you find out?” England asked, cutting through the silence.
America put his glasses back on, brushing his bangs away. “I was talking to Lithuania and he mentioned it. He said Russia looked happy and asked if the nightmares were lessening.” With a sad laugh, America looked away from England and to the wall. “I guess they’ve been going on for years, and I’m only picking up on this now. I just don’t know what to do. How can I be a hero if I can’t do anything?”
America put his head into his hands. “I just don’t want to see him hurt.”
“You really are worried.”
“Of course I’m worried. I love him.” America glanced up at England, honest truth shining in his eyes. England stared back, green eyes flickering as he searched his faced and then folded his hands into his lap, taping his foot slowly against the floor.
“I think I may know one way to help.”
“Really!” America shot out of the chair and stood up, looking to England in a mixture of relief and excitement.
“Hold your tongue, I wasn’t finished.” England’s glare made America’s jaw snap shut and he waited, nearly quivering. When he was satisfied that the younger nation wouldn’t interrupt, he folded his arms and continued, “However, I am not sure if it would work. You’ll have to give me a day to check up and make sure. It may also be dangerous.”
“I don’t care.” America said blandly.
“I know you don’t care, but I would prefer it if you would think once or twice!” England huffed and glared. When all he got in return was America’s flat stare, he shook his head and stood up, motioning that America should make his way to the door. “I’ll think about it. Until then, get out of my room and let me be.” He pushed America out and handed his paperwork to him, shutting the hotel door.
“Thanks Artie!” he said to the shut door and smiled.
He then began to walk towards where Russia was staying in the hotel until they returned to America’s home in Maine when the meetings would be finally over.
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