Hollowed

-4-

    "Comrade, what the fuck do you mean by that?" 

     "It means that whatever happens to me, it isn't  your fault."

     Soviet's brow furrowed. He isn't saying what I think he's saying, is he? 

      "Alex."

       America jumped slightly. Soviet had never  used his real name unless he was serious. As in there is war and you need to be on your toes serious. You might die  serious. 

      "Yeah?" America didn't meet his eyes. Soviet is a smart man, able to catch onto any suspicious things someone might be saying. 

      "Is there something wrong?"

      "No."

      Soviet sighed. He wasn't going to get any information out of America easily, so if he refused to talk about it now, nothing would ever get solved. 

      "You can talk to me if you want. I know Britain was not any sort of father for you."

      Silence. America hated Britain, more than the Empire of Japan, more than the Confederate States, more than himself.  Britain had killed his parents, his real  parents. Britain was the very reason he was this way, the very reason he couldn't trust anyone with his love, with his patience, with his secrets. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted the bitch dead. He didn't care about anything else. He wanted revenge. But he had to keep calm. America had to prevent himself from getting in any trouble so that he could make sure that his friends could fend for themselves in case he somehow died or couldn't get to them. 

     America didn't speak, and neither did Soviet. He wasn't going to preach about mental health to him, since he'd probably already heard it from everyone else in his life. 


     "Well, if you need anything, Amerika, just know that we are here for you. Me and all of your allies. You don't even have to speak, we'll just be there if you need some company, okay?" Soviet put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, then walked off to go clean the house- it looked like a tornado ran through it. 


     Soviet hummed as he walked back to the laundry room to put America's bedclothes in the washer, giving Beans- America's cat- some pets as he did so. Beans purred and kneaded the carpet, tucking her paws under her belly. Soviet continued to clean the house, vacuuming the floors, making beds, washing clothes and dishes, and dusting the ceiling fans before finally sitting back down on the couch next to America. Beans jumped onto the couch, laying her head on his leg.

     Soviet looked over at America, who was curled up in the fetal position with a hand over his eyes. Soviet sat and watched him for a bit before pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and covering his friend with it. He picked the remote up and turned it to Discovery, where Ghost Adventures was airing. Since he'd already done everything that needed to be done at the moment, Soviet decided to see what this show was all about- after all, America seemed to enjoy watching it. 

     The more Soviet watched, the more he understood why America liked it so much. The show was realistic, and the investigators knew when to be serious and when to loosen up. The investigators- Zak, Aaron, Jay, Billy, and Nick- were the only ones to get locked down for an entire night in a haunted location, which means virtually no potential contamination of evidence- these guys seemed like they knew what they were doing. Not only that, they had substantial amounts of evidence to support that ghosts were, in fact, real. 


     Soviet jumped slightly as America jolted up from his sleep, his eyes darting around the room.

     "Where- where am I-?!" he asked in a strained, tense voice.

      "In your home, in your country. You are safe, comrade." Soviet's voice was soft as he looked over at the western country- he knew good and well that America was prone to nightmares and odd dreams. 

     America sighed, and looked up at the TV. "It's already Wednesday? I thought it was Friday." He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

     Soviet nodded, still watching the TV intently. 

      "I thought you didn't like TV." America looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

      "The channels we had were uninteresting and too politically focused. I may be the representation of the Soviet Union, but it does not mean I can't change and it does not mean I don't have a life outside of representing my country- rather, former  country."

       America nodded and turned his attention back to the TV. Something then caught his attention- a dark figure out of the corner of his eye, barely noticeable to the inobservant. He tapped Soviet's shoulder.

       "What is it?"

       "Did you see that too?"