Gone

The Hate

Alfred/America:
To say Alfred was annoyed would be an understatement. The others not only showed up at his door but now they planned on staying. At least they weren't too suspicious, he could just play on the whole sick thing? Frick, he already told them he wasn't. They'll probably believe him if he claimed he didn't realize he was coming down with something. They already believe him to be that stupid.

Speaking of the other three, they were chatting in his living room while America got them all drinks. Considering he was trembling a little and his arms were still stinging from his previous events, he's moving sorta slow. "Alfred? Are you alright in there?" England's voice rings out, impatience masking most of his worry, however if you listen closely you could hear the underlying tone.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. I'm coming." Once he returns to everyone, he passes out their drinks. France gives him a thankful nod and Canada whispers his thanks. England only gives a soft, almost pitying smile toward him in return. America takes a seat in the arm chair so that he didn't have to sit next to them. Not that he doesn't like them, he just doesn't trust himself not to shake more.

France, who was sitting on the loveseat next to Canada, is closest to Alfred and took notice. "Amer...no, Alfred, you're shaking? Are you-"

"I SAID IM FINE! ...I'm fine..." France raises an eyebrow at the response and Canada sends a doubting glare his way. England shifts in his seat a little, not sure what exactly to do in this situation. It's fairly clear that he is not okay but they don't have any information as to why and America intended to keep them oblivious.

"Yeah, we're not believing that. You've been acting spacey AF, constantly look like your fighting something, and look overly tired..." Of course Matthew would notice more than the others. He is his twin brother.

"I'm always tired..." now it's just of life though.

"Yeah, I know but you already get almost no sleep with all the work you do. In fact that's probably the main reason for whatever's happening."

"Uh yeah, maybe y'all were right. I probably am getting sick! You guys wouldn't want to catch whatever it is, why don't you guys leave. I'll get better and see y'all at the next meeting!" If I can make it that long.

"'Y'all'? Jeezus Christ. You must be either really frustrated, mad, sad, or even more tired to be using your Southern drawl." To be honest, it's a little bit of all of them but Canada doesn't need to know that.

England decidedly had enough and got up. Alfred looks confusedly toward him but only gets England coming closer to him as a response. "C'mon, let's get you upstairs into bed. France can make you some food too."

"I'm uh...really not in the mood for anything."

"You probably just have an upset stomach, maybe it's the flu. It's alright, he can just make you some soup."

"Oui...Matthieu will you....assist gracious moi in the kitchen." The smirk and wink he gives toward Matthew only makes America more confused. The other twin gives a silent 'oh' and a nod before heading off into the kitchen with Francis.

The older of the remaining two offers his hand with a slight blush coating his cheeks to help Alfred, who was still sitting, up. "Wow, what a true gentleman." Even though he was rolling his eyes, Alfred could be seen with a slight smile.

"Well, of course. Anyway let's go upst-" Alfred's legs give out underneath him and he starts falling forward, thankfully caught by England halfway to the ground. "Can you make it upstairs?" England sighs a little when he shakes his head and wraps one of his arms around Alfred's waist. Sure, he's shocked at first but is thankful for the help. After going through years of this, it's a common occurrence to him. Considering, he doesn't exactly have substance to sustain himself, he often has 'not-standing days'. Hell, he's usually late to meetings because he has so much trouble getting out of bed.

Eventually the two make it to the top of the stairs, with Alfred mostly using Arthur for support. When they reach the top, they stop to let Al catch his breath while Arthur gently rubbed his back in support. Getting back on track after a minute, England helps guide the young nation to his room as quickly as possible, which isn't very fast, considering Al looked on the verge of passing out. So while England was trying to figure out what could be harming the younger, America was thanking Hollywood for his incredible ability to mask and act; which he is sadly used to doing quite often.

"Here I'll help you into bed, then I'm going to go get you a wet and cool washcloth; you're burning up." England had a hand to his head which he didn't notice until now. Speaking of not noticing things, America notices that they were already standing inside his room and England was...going through his dresser? "Don't worry love, I'm just going to have you change into pajamas." England became aware of what he said and a light coating of pink dusted the bridge of his nose. On the other hand, America decided if asked that he's going to blame his own blush on the fever. Love...I like that name...especially coming from him...

No. Don't get your hopes up. No one likes you, nonetheless him. Geez you're so desperate to be liked you'll look for it in everything. Pathetic. Wait...help me get into my pajamas? "Uh yeah, I'll get changed."

"Are you sure you can do it yourself."

Scars. Can't let him see your scars. He already hates you. "Yeah. I got it. Just...gimme a minute."

"Alright. I'll just be outside the door if you need me."