America oneshots

Instincts pt.2

I wasn't planning for a part two but some of you guys asked for it so... here it is!

"I think you broke my bloody back you git..."

What followed next was a usual reaction of absolute panic and chaos. Some were laughing their asses off *cough cough* Prussia *cough cough* while others were immediately at the Britain's side trying to climb over the table to him without making it any worse then it was *cough cough* France *cough cough*

Now they were in the hospital, the countries surrounding the Brit. He had bandages hugging his stomach and an IV looming at his side. The doctors had diagnosed a concussion along with a total of 5 broken ribs and a fractured spine. Luckily enough he would be healed and discharged in a week thanks to his quick healing factor. It would be quicker if his ribs were the only thing to be hurt, but America had also used his super strength when yeeting him. So now not only was Authur facing a massive headache, but he was also facing absolute humiliation; humiliation that had entirely been his fault. Wait? His fault? How was this his fault? It was that bloody pricks fault! Okay, so he had just maybe, possibly forgot the fact that his little brother sometimes reacted on his own guard, but once again, how on Earth was that his fault?! He hadn't realized that it had been one of those days. America hadn't shown any signs of it. Well perhaps except from the constant checking from left to right. And the lack of attention in his surroundings and comrades. And the fact that he had walked into the table twice... And the obvious paranoia he was dealing with.... Okay so maybe he was showing very obvious signs of it, but he still had no fault in the matter. Absolutely not. Nu-uh. No way. Not. At. All.
...
No.

"Ehhh I would say otherwise..."
England's head snapped towards the voice, however he quickly regretted it as a surge of pain up his neck rendered him hurting even more. He rubbed said neck, trying to sooth the sudden flare while leaving a silent glare towards the direction he had turned to. China wore a smug smirk as he made his way forward.

"I didn't say anything."
"True, but it was fairly obvious as to what you were thinking. You need to be more careful, my friend..."

Authur grunted, obviously unpleased by the response.

"Oui, I do agree, I am afraid I can't help you this time Authur."

The man cocked his head to the other side, having seemingly forgotten what happened the last time he did this.

"What?! I did nothing wrong though!"

Scoffs and disagreeing laughs were his only response. There had been so much things wrong within the sentence itself. But then again, the man had always been an old and stubborn bastard.
Why were they even there? This had no benefit to them. They should have carried on with the meeting to the best of their ability. America was already being comforted by his more closer friends. After he had hurt England he seemed to have gone into a trance of some sort. It had even appeared as if he had gone into shock. The young country had stared at him for a few short seconds before proceeding to sprint off in a horror of realisation. It seemed as if he had thought that the whole situation was his fault. They swore that boy was to pure for this undeserving world. It was just more reason to throw the old geezer out of the window and forget about him for the birds and strays to feast on. But unfortunately they all knew that would be nothing but a futile attempt. However they were interrupted of their murderous planning as England finally remembered a key factor of the 'debate' that would help him 'win'

"Well he hasn't just done it to me, has he?! The pricks got the majority of you too!"

They silenced as they took it in. It was true, a fair amount of them had all experienced some sort of Alfred's defence wrath before, however he had never actually done much to them. Usually he just grabbed the closest 'weapon' to him; whether that would be an empty cup of coffee or a spoon. He had never actually physically hurt them, never the less put them in a hospital bed before.

"You á are somewhat correct á Mr Britain, however á we weren't as á stupid as you,"

Surprised faces turned towards the small country, having of forgotten the usually loud person up till now. Italy stepped forward, an unusual light growl on his face. Yes, it was true to say that he was one of the more passive and neutral countries, however Alfred was one of his dear friends and had comforted him when he was in some of his darkest moments. So it made absolute and utter sense that he was pissed.

"When we á approached him it was with á concern and a wanting to help, when you á approached him it was with annoyance and no concern. We were á careful, you were disregarding. We á were quiet, you were shouting. We knew something á was off, you hadn't the slightest care."

Britain had been stunned into a silence he himself had not known he was able of. Never, not once in his hundred years, had ever someone had the audacity to speak to him like that. Not once. Yet here he was; injured with a country nowhere even close to his power, talking to him as if he was the one at fault, as if he was the bad person. He regained control of his body and went to argue in his defence before he was cut off once more.

"Out of all of us á present, you have known America for the longest. You are his á brother gosh dammit! How do you á seem to know the least about him?!"

Anger. Pure anger. Italy remained standing, head down and hands clenched at side. A dark shadow casting upon his face.

"He has done so much á for us, for you. And all you do is treat him á as if he was some stupid puppet! Only lord knows á how he is still putting up with you because I would have left you long ago. Alfred á was right to fight back. You do not deserve someone as á good as him. I may not be one of his closest friends, but I'd be pretty damn darned á if I didn't stand up for him as he did me. Good bye Mr. Kirkland,"

A silence much too loud was left behind as Italy stormed out, making sure that his footsteps were heard as he went down the corridor. Never had they seen Italy so mad before. No one had, because even if he was, he hid it. But England had been able to push him over the line, and he himself had nothing to say. It was Germany who was the first to break the silence, however it was only with a few shuffles as he himself got up and marched towards the door before turning arounds as if to say something before deciding against so. He left. And then there was another shuffle. China remained steady as he stood up despite the shakiness he could feel rising within his chest. He let out a small mutter before too, exiting the room.

"To a child none the less..."

Three down, one left. England turned to the last in the room, France. An unknown pleading in his eyes, begging for the other to stay. His heart already facing a painful strain left by the others. But his attempts proved futile as Francis lowered his head in shame. Nothing came out at first but then,

"M-my apoligies, mon ami. However I don't belive that I can stay with you this time..."

It was shaky and stuttered but it was out now and there was no turning back. He didn't want to leave, he really didn't, but what he had done just cannot be justified for. He stood up, slowly trenching towards the door, feeling the others never leaving eyes. He reached the door and for a moment Britain thought that he was going to come back, to tell him that he was right and that he was sorry. But to no avail France turned the corner and left. And there Arthur was left,
now alone. He started at his lap, hands grasping the thin blanket, a blank expression now settled on his face. One minute. Two minutes. Five. Then ten. And finally did the tears come. The gurgled and burned and continued to come for hours on end, careless towards the silent pleads from the Brit for them to just stop. It was a never ending waterfall of confusion. Confusion as to just why he was crying, until he looked up to a mirror across the room and stopped his pitiful sobbing. Because there, staring back at him, was a small child. One with wild wheat gold hair and shinning cerulean eyes that seemed even bigger in his round glasses. They stood there, thumbs fiddling together as they stared back, tear stains etching on their cheeks. And then he realized.

Alfred... My dear little brother....

I'm so sorry

Damn okay, my apologies-
I didn't actually plan on going into any angst when writing this but it just kinda came-? Anyway this is the last part, please don't ask for a part 3 :)
I'm afraid that if I do that then Imma end up doing something I regret-
Anyway bye!
Word Count: 1633