The Things I'd Rather Forget // Countryhumans AU

Chapter 26: Is this the thing called love? \\ The Ballroom

Confederacy was looking over his plans when he heard a muffled grunt. Slightly worried but mostly annoyed, he turned around to see PR on the floor, his legs shaking unnaturally.

"Are you okay?" Confederacy asked his slightly peeved brother.

"I hate you," PR responded, his eyes flicking over to meet Confederacy's. His legs were shaking and he couldn't walk, but he was a little too used to it at this point.

"May I ask why?" Confederacy clicked his tongue and turned back to their plans.

"It's because you hear me fall, and you do nothing. God, you really need a few lessons in comradery."

"Woah, using big words now, are you? Isn't that a bit hard for your tiny brain to handle?" Confederacy said with a shit-eating grin.

PR glared at Confederacy, "I will murder you," After receiving no response from Confederacy, PR sighed, "To answer your previous question, no, I am not okay."

Confederacy immediately turned around to face PR at that, his eyes glinting with slight anger. No word was spoken, but PR knew what question was probably floating in his brother's head.

"No, it won't affect our plans. It's just a few earthquakes, that's all. I'll be fine, I've been through worse," PR hissed. Getting the feeling that he had to prove what he said, PR stood up, his legs shaking a little bit less. He lost his balance but quickly recovered it before he could fall down again. He refused to be seen as weak right now.

Confederacy's eyes narrowed, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. I'd just prefer it if our plans- or should I say your plans- went a little quicker."

"Your... condition better not mess everything up," Confederacy threatened, ignoring PR's little comment.

PR glanced at his brother in arms and frowned, "I'll. Be. Fine." And with that, PR walked away.

--x--

Beep! Beep!

America slammed the off button on his alarm. He had pulled another all-nighter. He felt like literal shit. He had let Russia down. Again. It more so letting himself down, but it felt like America was letting Russia down at the same time. America had tried, he really did, but the temptation to not eat and run away from his nightmares was greater than the need for hunger and sleep. America had learned how to function while starving. He was fine, but Russia wouldn't be.

He'll be worried and disappointed, and that's not what America wants. America doesn't want to be a burden, but it sure feels like he is. He felt like a wrong answer someone had tried to erase, but their rubber eraser had hardened and made a disgusting pink streak over the already wrong answer. Yeah, that.

America had promised he'd try, but god was that hard.

He can't do anything right.

America felt as though there was a long, thin tightrope in front of him. On the other side of that tightrope, America was good enough. On the other side of that tightrope, America wasn't a burden to those around him, but America didn't want to go on that thin, long tightrope. It looked too dangerous. It looked too hard. If America tried to cross, he'd fall. He just knew it. America didn't want to try crossing it and falling down, he just wanted to sleep.

But sleep meant nightmares.

He deserves those nightmares. He owes it to everyone who's died because of him. Everyone he's killed. America shivered.

Realizing he was gonna be late if he didn't stop thinking, America quickly got ready, slipping on a fresh suit, the gloves gifted to him from Britain, and his signature glasses. Just as America was about to leave (skipping breakfast as usual), he heard someone knock on his door. America cast a confused glance towards the door and opened it to see Russia.