Unpromised Home

in the end

'in which you come to conclusions'

"I'm surprised you came back." America was the first one to speak up after a long period of uncomfortable silence. Your gaze finally stops darting around the room as America returns to his paperwork. You watch his figure cautiously, running your fingers over the border of the letter in your hands.

"It's... Not by my choice that's for sure..."

"And yet," He sighs, clicking the pen and tossing it on his desk. He leans back into his chair, "You're letting yourself run errands for Layla."

"Yeah well, I didn't exactly intend to make a detour over your way." You fold your arms over each other, quietly scoffing.

"Who's that letter from?"

"Hmm? It's uh..." You flip the letter in your hand, reading the neat printing on the front, "From Canada."

The letter was out of your hand in the blink of an eye. America immediately tears the letter open, allowing to the envelope flutter to the ground.  It skids off in the direction of the window, landing in a beam of light.

You wander off toward it as America loudly flicks the paper in his hands. You bend down, taking the envelope back into your hands. It was torn vertically in half with jagged haste, barely still intact.

Glancing over at America after a loud sigh, you watch as his shoulders relax, if only slightly. You raise an eyebrow as he raises the letter closer to his face. His eyebrows furrow in contemplation over his eyes. Uncovered, likely because you were holding onto his busted glasses like you were a hoarder.

Quietly you walk over to his desk, laying the envelope which should be on life support onto the cool surface. Digging in your pocket, you then pull out the plastic frames, setting them and the broken arm onto the ripped paper. Satisfied with the quiet stacking of items, you look up preparing to head back out the door. Only, you currently can't see the door, only the shirted chest of the United States.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to leave?" You mumble, sidestepping around the country, "What does it matter?"

"I guess it doesn't..." You begin to make your way to the office doors. With your hands in your pockets, you push your body against the heavy door, stepping halfway into the hallway. "Wait for a minute."

You turn on your heel, raising an eyebrow at the country. He taps his finger on the rim of his glasses before speaking again, "How'd you end up with these?"

"They were stuck in the plant... I just didn't notice them until later." That's not a total lie... "The arms fallen off but I think it just needs a new screw."

America sighs, nodding at your meagre explanation. Again you turn around, getting ready to leave. You place your hand on the door but hesitate to push it open as you hear America shuffling the papers on his desk.

"So what was in that letter?"

"What?" He clicks his pen once, staring at you blankly from behind his desk.

"The letter." You repeat, "What was in it?"

"It was just a message from my si- brother. My brother," America leans back into the chair, crossing his arms, "He's overseas right now. It's personal things."