America was pacing. He had never been the type to sit still, and this was only expedited when he was anxious.

And oh, was he anxious. Was he ever anxious.

“You know,” Canada said wonderingly from the chair, watching his brother with something between concern and amusement, “Wearing a hole in your floor is not ( Read more... )

            Alfred had things to say, a million more things to say - “I know” and “There’s nothing else to talk about” and “Oh god what are we doing,” but he couldn’t find the breath to say them. Something vicious and tight was squeezing his lungs, something he vaguely recognized as hope. Matthew was too close, or possibly not close enough, but he ( Read more... )