The past comes back to haunt

Chapter 1

Wednesday, June 5th, 2080.

9:07 AM

America's sleep was anything but peaceful, his dreams a kaleidoscope of abstract fears and silent echoes. As consciousness crept in, the chaos of the night retreated, leaving him tangled in sheets that bore witness to his unrest. A sliver of golden sunlight pierced through the bay window, casting a warm glow over the chaos of his room. It danced over the ripples of the lake outside, a silent symphony to the start of his day.

He sat up, the remnants of dreams clinging like cobwebs. Stretching, he felt the weight of the night lift. His feet found the cold floor, and he shuffled toward the bathroom, his reflection in the mirror a stark contrast to the disarray behind him.

With a deep breath, he stepped out; the door closing with a soft click behind him. The town awaited, its rhythms a familiar call.

9:34 AM

As America strolled down the cobblestone street, he caught sight of Russia and Germany engaged in a conversation. They paused, turning in unison as America approached.

"Guten Morgen, Amerika," Germany greeted, "how are you?"

"Morning, Ger, I'm doing fine," America replied, managing a half-smile.

"You seem tired, Америка," Russia observed, his deep voice laced with a hint of concern.

America let out a weary sigh, the bags under his eyes more pronounced. "Yeah, I.. haven't been sleeping very well."

Russia's brow furrowed, concerned.

"Do you want to come with me and Germany to the new Cafe in town?" he offered, gesturing towards a quaint building just down the street.

"There's a new cafe?" America perked up, his curiosity piqued as he glanced toward Russia's gesture.

"It opened just last week," Germany informed, a note of pride in his voice as if the cafe was a recent addition to his organized collection of town landmarks.

America shrugged, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Sure, I've got a bit of free time," he said, the prospect of something new brightening his demeanor. "Lead the way."

America trailed behind Russia and Germany, the trio pushing open the door to the new cafe. A quaint bell chimed above, a delicate counterpoint to the robust laughter and chatter that warmed the room. The rich scent of roasted coffee beans lingered in the air, inviting them further inside. America's eyes focused in on the man at the counter, a barista working with an artisan's focus, steam from the espresso machine veiling his concentration. As he turned, the ceramic mug slipped from his grasp, crashing onto the floor. America locked eyes with the man behind the counter, stepping forward as the man came around the counter.

"America?! What are you doing here?!" Canada's voice cut through the cafe's hum, a mix of shock and disbelief etching his features.

America leaned against the counter, arms folded, "I live here, you dumbass, now how the fuck did you find this place?!"

Canada wiped his hands on his apron, his movements betraying a hint of nervousness. "My fiancé's from around here. He mentioned the empty storefront, and, well, I've always dreamt of having my own cafe," he explained, avoiding America's gaze.

"You better not say a fucking word to mom and dad about this." America hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Canada met his brother's stare, the weight of years apart hanging between them. "America, you've been gone for over a decade. We thought you were dead."