Unpromised Home

liars

'in which the walls fall down'

You groan loudly, squinting your eyes as the bright glow of the morning sun burns into your irises without hesitation or remorse. This is what you get for leaving the blinds open last night... Blindness and a splitting headache. What fun.

Flipping your blankets off your legs you let out a long yawn. You weren't even out late last night and you are absolutely wrecked. There's nothing that you can think of that you did yesterday that was out of the ordinary. Clearly, your body is just being overly dramatic.

You let out a string of curses as you stumble from bed, your words mumbled and raspy. Your head spins from the abrupt change in elevation. A sigh falls from your lips as you steady yourself before walking into the hall.

Still grumbling you step into the kitchen, moving to pick up the coffee pot. You swish it around, feeling the liquid move around in the pot. Didn't you empty this yesterday? And why is it still warm?

You look over at the small kitchen table at the sound of ceramic on the wooden surface.

"How long have you been sitting there?" You mumble, staring at the country as he takes another sip from his mug, "Better yet why are you sitting there?"

"I have a key. This is my apartment."

"I..." You squint at America, "You don't live here."

"I pay rent"

"You don't live here." You sigh loudly, grabbing a cup from the cupboard above you, "What do you want?"

"Layla was concerned when you didn't show up to work this morning. I figured I better make sure you didn't get squashed under a vehicle like some unfortunate little bug."

"What?" You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion, "What time is it?"

"Afternoon sometime."

"After...?" You mumble, glancing out the window. That would explain why the sun was so bright. "Well fuck."

You set your mug down on the table with a thud, pulling the chair opposite from America out. You take a seat and pick up the mug again. Tilting your head and the mug back, you chug the coffee down in one breath. You slam the mug down onto the table, with a force that makes you surprised when the handle doesn't shatter in your hands.

"You alright?"

"Fine." You roll your eyes, leaning back into the wooden chair, "Perfectly fucking fine... Absolutely a hundred percent fine."

You listen to America sigh as you stare out the small window to your left. The sun casts a blinding glare on the glass pane, restricting your view of the outside world. You sigh in turn. What a bust. You slept several hours more than usual and you're still exhausted.

When you glance back across the table, you catch America staring at you. You raise an eyebrow, scoffing as you watch his stare harden. He shifts his gaze across the kitchen,  staring at the coffee pot that sits on the kitchen counter.

"Do you want more?"

"Whatever."

You shake your head at America's dismissive response. With a sigh, you stand up from your chair. You grab the coffee pot and return to the table. After repouring your own mug, you set the pot in the center of the table.

As you take a sip of the dark coffee, you catch America staring at you again through the corners of your vision.

"What?"

"Are you drinking that straight?"

"Yeah?" You quirk an eyebrow upwards, lips curling into a smirk around the top of the mug, "What? Can't you handle black coffee?"