Operation Red Herring (Countryhumans Alternate History)

Chapter 41

TW: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexism, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Ideation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Sexual Assault

A head turn and a slow blink, dull, half-lucid blue eyes staring back at her like an old doll- one with half-lidded eyes that never quite close nor open, with sunken cheeks and worn lips from years of wear, years of being discarded and forgotten. Japan had neglected to think about how different America would look now, and the stark contrast between the figure sitting on the floor and the woman who had lived with her months ago was enough to give her whiplash. She quickly closed her eyes, willing herself not to vomit. But the image was already burned into her retinas. Eyes sunken into her skull. Arms thin, fragile, like they would snap in two if anyone touched them. It was like looking at a ghost. A horribly pale, sickly, barely breathing phantom.

Japan forced her eyes open, clearing her throat at a vain attempt to get some coherent sentence out of her mouth. America stared back at her, making no move or motion to speak. It was too quiet here. All Japan could hear was the sound of the pipe dripping into a metal bowl, the other's shallow breaths, and her own heartbeat. Finally, Japan choked out, "Hello."

Another blink, a nodding of her head. She spoke, "What-" She coughed. Her voice was hoarse from either lack of use or dehydration, or maybe both. It sounded like she had smoked a pack of cigars. It was distant, like she was fighting to stay focused on the conversation that had just begun. "What do you want?"

Japan took a swig from the bottle of the wine she had brought with her, desperately hoping to quell the nervousness that was pulsing through her. She hummed at the taste, faltering when she noticed America's piercing gaze as it followed the bottle of red liquid. It was one of the few colorful things in the room. The only other reds were on Japan and America's faces. "Do you-um- Do you want some?" She asked. America didn't respond, blankly looking back at the wall. Japan frowned. She seemed... really off. The taller hesitated before slowly making her way over to her, crouching down beside her. Japan could see more details now. The way her white bangs were overgrown, almost covering her eyes. The way eyebags and had etched themselves onto her skin. The way dried blood clung to her mouth, crusted onto her chapped lips in small flakes. America barely acknowledged the other's presence.

Japan held the bottle in front of the younger, perhaps as a peace offering, perhaps as a way to quell the guilt that was knotted in her stomach. "America?"

"Hm?" She hummed, not looking at Japan.

"Drink some." She said softly, moving to put the bottle to the other's lips. America shook her head, moving a hand to stop the neck of the bottle.

"No."

"America-"

"No." She said again, voice becoming slightly less distant. "I can't drink."

"What- America, drink it. You look like you are about to pass out." Japan thought for a moment, realizing that alcohol was perhaps not the best thing to give a starving person. Then again, she had little else.

"No," America sighed, "I'm sober. I've been for almost fifteen years." She huffed out a laugh. It was pathetic, a hollow version of what had once been so joyful. "So, no."

"America," Japan started, then stopped, sighing in frustration. "It doesn't matter anymore. Just drink it."

"No."

"Ameri-"

"No-"

"DRINK THE DAMN THING!" Japan yelled, and the other flinched back, eyes flicking wildly before the landed on Japan's frustrated expression. Something flashed in her eyes, some emotion that made Japan uneasy.