One last kiss

oh shit, we're trending...

The meeting was moving slowly, he gave dirty glares to anyone who decided that he and America would be their show monkey's for this meeting. He refused to be eye candy for people who just wanted to gossip. He stared at the splotches that covered his fingers and hands, the pen in his hands flexing from the grip he had on it. He grabbed the name tag that had his name imprinted, he began to doodle on it. Ignoring the snickers and the small clicking sounds of photos being taken. He was suffering in that seat trying not to lose his shit. Having to hold his tail to stop it from rattling. He hated this so much, Mexico could feel his phone buzz in his pocket, it buzzed over and over. Yet he stuck through the meeting, occasionally looking at his neighbor's America and Canada, feeling a little comforted by the presence of Canada. He enjoyed him, and he really never had any problems with Canada.

By the time the meeting was over Mexico was already gone, he had left for the stairs, he'd lost trust in the elevator. He walked up the stairs avoiding the countries that tried to talk to him, staring at them blankly or just continuing to walk on. His displeasure clogged up the hallway as he walked back to his room. He reached the room door, shoving the key inside and opening it and slamming the door behind him, sitting on the couch in anger, his rattle shaking in anger. Mexico heard America enter into the room and go to his room. Mexico sat there wallowing in self pity, anger, sadness. The constant buzzing of his phone pissing him off more than it should have. He shoved his face into a pillow and kicked and he felt like screaming his lungs out. He didn't want to talk to America about it, in fact he didn't want to talk to America at all. If he ever got the chance he would yell and scream at him, throwing everything at him telling him how much he wanted to watch him burn and die, and how he wished that America would just kill himself.

He reluctantly got off the couch walking over to where the room was. Mexico knocked on the door reluctantly.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

Mexico opened the door to the room walking in and standing by the bed where America was laying. "Listen, we have to talk about this. I know we both hate each other, but people are going to start to think the opposite if we are continuingly being seen together in situations like these."

"And your solution to this would be?"

"America, we have to avoid each other at all costs, we can't be seen together, people are going to continue to harass us until they see we don't like each other."

"Alright that seems good to me"

"Good then, then we can carry on and not talk to one another." Mexico walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. But he did find his solution a little hard to achieve, they shared a room together, they sat next to each other in meetings and had to be by each other most of the time. It would be rather hard for them to avoid each other, but he'd do anything to get away from these rumors and forget this ever happened. Mexico stared at his phone, the buzzing had slowed down, he opened it in fear looking at the missed calls, notifications, And Twitter notifications that showed up. Of course they had to be trending, now there is no way this would be over. People were mememing Mexico's expression when people started to take photos, mad and flustered. Plenty of people raving about the experience, and countries sharing information about rooming that wasn't appreciated.

Mexico went to change out of his business clothes and into his pajamas in the bathroom. He turned on the TV seeing the snow storm was moving closer. It was supposed to be pretty big but Mexico was still skeptical about it. Mexico heard America leave his room and make something. Unexpectedly the American sat next to him and watched the TV.

"Shouldn't we be avoiding each other?" Mexico sighed as America shrugged.
"You can stay, but shut up, don't say anything."
America nodded in silence. Mexico readjusting his position on the couch to give more space between the American and him.
Later in the night America got up and went back to his room. Mexico felt like he could breathe again. He let out a sigh, going to the bathroom and brushing his teeth. He laid down in bed and felt calm closing his eyes. A notification buzzed from his phone, his daughter Michoacan telling him good night. He smiled at the text and sent a good night to her before putting his phone away and going to sleep