America — 035

Ever since you became a country, Alfred was so… Cold. Specifically to you—only you.

You never understood why. It was so random.

So confusing.

Alfred had his reasons right? Or did he just find a small country like you as pathetic?. It was not something foreign to you. A country; so new, so pure. America envied that. He envied the lack of experience you had as a country—You don’t have struggles, you don’t worry to much, you are just… You.

The day you stepped into the meeting room—Being greeted by everyone, and getting along with the others so quickly… It made America feel a way he’s never felt before.

Disgust.

He wasn’t used to it, but he could not handle this emotion all too well; he’ll simply just act on it. Everyone thinks he is just a dumb American. He wouldn’t do anything harmful. Especially not to such a small country; if anything, everyone would expect him to try and make you one of his allies.

Not to be a toy.

As taboo as it was, you couldn’t help but feel a dark attraction to him—A feeling so warm, so foreign and unlike the unhealthy relationship you two had. Alfred hated you, despised you, affiliates with anything but you… It just made you want him; you just wanted what you didn’t have.

America saw it as greedy. You were a country built with greed, and manipulation, he called it. He didn’t attempt to truly meet you—It wasn’t worth it. You were sick to him, and that was final.

America was hosting one of his big barbecues, in hopes of appealing to everyone—Though, most are annoyed by his voice, his face, his everything. Alfred just clung on because it was all he had.

Upon getting the invite, you knew this was a trap. That man had nothing but ill intent for you… Just reading the letter made your stomach drop; the words were twisted and full of lies. This is just an act, an act to gage you in—just to make you feel like you have finally made a connection with him.

The minute you would turn your back on him, he would strike.

He was taunting you, you didn’t want to decline; show him you submit to him. You are going to go. What’s the worst that could happen? It isn’t possible for him to do anything to you anyway—Everyone is going to be there.

You came to the barbecue, engaging in a conversation with one of the other countries.

Alfred lurked from afar, watching the encounter with pure disgust and hatred.

His usual expression; full and smiling—Now, it was grim and irritated. ‘Look at them’ he thought, ‘So pathetic, so vulnerable.’ His face contorted of irritation that you get to talk to others with ease. Others get annoyed with him. He wanted to take your spot—He wanted to be center of attention.

Alfred changed his expression. A mask he trained for years; his usual smile and charm plastered on the skin of his face.

It felt sewn on.

It feels like needles stabbing into the skin of his face, just to keep the skin of the mask on him. It was bloody. It was painful. But, this is what it means to be the hero! Right?

He is going to make things the way they were, because that is for the best.

America would do what it takes though, painful or not.

“Hey, dudes!” America walks towards you two. From head to toe, he is a different person. He is America; the loud obnoxious man who is the ‘hero’.

He smiled—Though, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Internally, the threads felt like it was loosening. It was an easy fix though—Until it ran out.

“You dudes enjoying the party?”

You felt a sense of recognition once you heard his voice. It was so familiar—But not in a comforting way. It was the kind of familiarity that left you afraid. The kind of familiarity that reminded you of the twisted relationship you have with America—His voice is something you didn’t want to hear.

His voice was wrapped in charm, it was loud. Cheerful. It was America’s voice.

You didn’t know how to respond. After all, you were still uncomfortable with him. You knew things about him others didn’t.

*America began to steal the conversation away from you, talking to whoever you were talking to. He stepped beside you—Purposely. He hated the air you breathed, he avoided any contact with you.

This wasn’t a break through of his disgust. It was dominance; a demonstration of how much power he has against you.

Once the other country walked away, America immediately stepped back from you. His eyes deliberately trailing from your feet to your damned face.

“Why did you come?” He murmured quietly, quiet enough where only you could hear him, “Did you think I changed? Or did you want to prove a point?” A slow, taunting smile appeared on his face. His smile was purely ill—infuriating, cruel, it made your stomach drop. It made you feel pathetic.

Who are you compared to him?

Alfred’s cruel smile stayed plastered on his face. “It’s pathetic. It’s pathetic how much you try and persist with your nonexistent relationship with me.” His smile faded, a look of disgust was on his face as he looked at you.

“You are so stupidly stubborn. But, I like that part about you. I like how much power I have over you—What are you to do when the day comes where I decide i’ve had enough of you?”

His words… they were heavy. Laced in mockery. You hadn’t done anything to him, yet you felt a sickening guilt you did not deserve.

“You’re silly if you think I would love you.”

It’s so sick. Disgusting. You feel disgusting—No, you didn’t do anything. But, his words twist your reality, and the person you feel you were.

Doubtful of who you were; truly, are you the sick person he portrays you as? Or is he the one to blame?…

Your confusion contorted your face. Oh, America loved this. He loved seeing your face so… vulnerable. So stupid.

“You understand it now, don’t you?” Another smile appeared on his face. Genuine satisfaction.

“It’s so pathetic how your face looks right now.”

It was just you and him, in the corner of the room. To everyone else… It looked like he was shooting his shot. To you? This was hell.

“So, you still love me now? Or are you going to fuck off and stop trying to hurt everyone?”

You wouldn’t have ever tried hurting the others, but Alfred was so set on this idea that you were sick and twisted.