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35 ‎ ‎ ‎ The Love Glow

AMERICA
Sunlight was blinding, especially when you were at an altitude of this high.

He groggily rose from the soft white covers, rubbing his eyes and absentmindedly looking for someone who wasn't there. His heart jumped, panicking — before last's nights events returned to him in a flood of memory, remembering that Russia was indeed well and alive in a different room. They weren't in NYC anymore, but instead, in an airborne aluminum dream, reeling contrails 37,000 feet high in the skies.

Scrambling to open the door handle and go to the nearest bathroom, feeling the vestiges of a hangover lingering on his every step, he racked his mind for a clearer collection of last night. Drinking contest, he thought drearily, dinner, China's plan — ah, and the impulsive visit to someone specific's room.

Italy passed him with a careful wave but he rushed past, slamming the restroom door with a bang. God, that must've been embarrassing for his yesterday self. Was he okay? Was it the alcohol acting up? Of all the people, why Russia? Since when did he care if the guy was okay?

He paced absentminded steps around the small space. No, they were friends now. He was meant to care. Long gone were the days of snarky attitude in the hallways.

Occasionally amidst steps he would cast occasional glances of himself in the mirror, making eye contact with the person he hoped he would still recognize at the end of this all. He must've had enough sleep; a deep rest, because the eye-bags had disappeared quickly. And his skin was much more radiant than before. Yes, the hair was in disarray, but that was a quick solve with some hair gel, he thought, digging through the shelves and procuring an amenity bottle. Hands raked through blonde locks, feeling the odd, uncomfortable texture of gel ooze-through his fingers. At the same time, he looked for a clock to tell the time, but there were no fruits to his effort.

'Just don't think about it' was the result he had crafted for himself in the end as he bravely opened the door and walked the halls to the main area, where China and Canada were deep in conversation over mugs of herbal tea. Everyone else seemed to still be asleep. Italy was gone, maybe back to his room. America made a mental note to return and apologize to him before the trio started developing a stronger urge to beat him up.

"Hi," he muttered, taking the third chair in between the two. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," China said, looking a little taken aback. "We were just talking about..." He froze and laughed, placing the cup of smoking liquid down.

"Nothing," Canada mirrored his cheery expression. "It's just difficult to like, keep you guys on a leash, you know? It's like being parents. Sometimes I wonder if we're the only sane people in this misfit group. Plus Germany, I assume..."

"What about Russia?" America asked. Oh no, there it was again.

China tilted his head. "You get to know Russia a little better and you'd know that he really isn't as serene as he's made out to be. He used to stage prank wars on all of us a few years ago. Ah, you two really aren't that different... I wonder why you stayed rivals for so long."

"He really isn't too bad, eh?" Canada took another sip. 

"Maybe," America shrugged, praying to every holy deity that his face was heating up just because the plane's interior was rather sunny right now.

There was silence where the two just sat and scrutinized him for a little bit.

"What?"

"Nothing," the pair said in unison, looking away.

"You look slightly different today, Ame," Canada commented randomly after a moment or two, and China nodded vigorously.

"In what way?"