Pangea Academy's Number Two! (BOOK 2)

Under the Weather!

The morning light filtered through the thick curtains, casting a gentle glow upon the aged wooden beams that crisscrossed the ceiling above. The air carried a subtle fragrance of pine, a natural perfume that whispered tales of the surrounding forest. The master bed, with its handcrafted wooden frame, stood as a sturdy sentinel against the night, and the quilt draped over it held the warmth of a thousand dreams.

America's eyes slowly crack open, the spot to his right is noticeably cold. Showing that Russia had not laid there in a while. While trying to gain his bearing after a restless night, America slowly sat up.

Only to be restricted by pain enveloping him like an unwelcome companion, its icy fingers gripping at the deepest caverns of his brain. Each heartbeat echoed through his body, a relentless drumming of agony. With the movement of sitting up, a symphony of protest erupted within him, sharp notes and dull throbs harmonizing inside his head. It wasn't just a sensation; it was a narrative of suffering etched into the fibers of his mind.

His hands, shaking as if seizing, slowly gripped his head in a blur of severe discomfort. His lips quivered, he couldn't even muster up a whimper of pain or a scream for help, the endless agony silencing him. His breaths; short, barely enough air was reaching his lungs but each times he tried to swallow more air the discomfort peaked. Just as America was sure he was going to faint from lack of air, the pain that had clung to him like a relentless tempest began to unravel and retreat. It was as if an unseen force, merciful and swift, reached into his being and gently unraveled the threads of agony that had woven a tapestry of discomfort.

He was left sitting there, heaving air back into his body, with only a minor headache.

His body seemed to finally catch up with his mind, and tears began pouring out of his eyes. Not even the 'punishments' from UN or the beating from his kidnappers could compare to the tormenting anguish that just gripped his very being. His eyes stayed blown wide, as tears freely breached through his ducts, his mouth hung only slightly open. He didn't know how to react.

His voice cracked as he muttered, "Holy shit."

It was right at this moment, America's boyfriend decided to stomp back into their room. His face hazy, he looked livid, but America had just woken up... so it can't be directed at him? The last thing he wanted to do was to deal with Russia's anger and whatever the fuck just happened to him.

Luckily, the minute Russia's eyes found America's awake figure the anger was washed away. In replacement, concern took over.

"Amerika!?" He yelped, dashing over to America's side of the bed, placing his phone on the side table, and sitting down directly next to him, "Are you alright!?"

Nothing was currently causing the American any pain, so he responded shortly, "Yeah." Russia's eyes scanned America's face, seeing his actively crying eyes, and the daze he seemed to be in.

"I wasn't asking- Just- What happened?"

"Headache got worse."

"Care to give me a little more detail, my love?" Russia deadpanned.

"Worse meaning really really bad." America tried, "I don't think I could even explain it." Russia clearly noticed the way he reacted to it though, so the Russian could imagine how bad it was, for someone to not be actively sobbing but just shocked after the pain they went through. "Felt like I was going to die, to be honest. But I couldn't really think straight."

"Do you think it was the Naproxen?"

"If it was, I don't think they'd be allowed to sell that shit over the counter." America finally gained awareness of his surroundings and pulled his shirt up to wipe his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just really shocked."