Thanks to all you people who reviewed! :D You don't know how much it means to me to get reviews~! Sorry I didn't answer back or anything, I'm lazy. But I did read them! So, thanks to all the reviews, here's the next chap. Enjoy! :)
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America was woken by the sound of his door bell being hit several times. He buried his face farther in his pillows, trying to drown out the world. He felt sick. So incredibly sick. So sick he thought he was going to die. He tried to think back to last night, but the huge majority of it was a blur. None of his scrambled memories made much sense. Then he remembered how upset and lonely he had been, and how he had thought that, if he drank a few beers, he'd suddenly feel better. But everything after about the fourth can of beer was a blank. The doorbell continued to ring, and America pushed himself up so he could see who desperately needed him at such a time of day. He looked at his clock, expecting it to be seven in the morning. However, it was actually two in the afternoon. Giving a groan, he continued to walk out of his room, cursing himself for getting so wasted.
Walking through his living room, he saw the pile of empty beer cans and cringed—there were at least twelve of them. No wonder he felt so crappy. Seeing as he was a country, he could drink more alcohol than normal people and get away with it. But drinking two six-packs really wasn't healthy for anyone, country or not.
The doorbell was really starting to give America a horrible head ache. Actually, just being conscious was giving him a really bad head ache. The light hurt, sounds hurt, walking hurt, thinking hurt. He just wanted to go back to bed and suffer in loneliness. But no, someone just had to talk to him right now.
He tried to open the door, but then realized he hadn't unlocked it yet. Irritated, he unlocked it and roughly opened it. "What?" he growled, not really in the mood for company. However, he jumped when he realized that it was no other that England standing at his door step. He looked taken aback at America's attitude, making America feel like a complete ass. Wow, he had been missing him the whole time he'd been gone, and soon as he came back, he bit his head off. Way to be a freakin' douchebag.
"Ah, E-England!" he stammered. He went to smile only to realize that hurt too. And his stomach really hurt too, but he figured he could just ignore it for right now. "You're back."
England looked at him curiously, then smiled. America felt warm being able to see that smile after centuries of it being absent "Well, of course. I said I'd come back, didn't I?"
A huge smile crossed America's face as he went to hug him. But suddenly, America's stomach felt really weird. Before he could even think to run back into the house, America threw up—all over England and himself.
Oh God, he was such an idiot.
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England just stood there for a second, not exactly sure what to do. He was slightly irritated seeing as he had had to wait such a long time for America to just answer the door. Then when he had, America had answered it quite rudely, making England afraid that he was angry at him for being gone. Then, once he had thought that everything was perfectly okay, this had happened. America was bent over, now dry heaving after having thrown up on the both of them. England really didn't know how to react. His first reaction was to just start throwing up too because of how ill he felt now, but that would only make matters worse. His second reaction would have been to beat the living crap out of America for vomiting on him, but hurting a sick person was not the gentlemanly thing to do. So, not knowing what really else to do, he just stood there, waiting for America to stop dry heaving so he could maybe do something to help.
After a few seconds, America was finally able to stand up a little straighter, a horrible look on his pale face. "Oh, God, England, I'm so, so, so sorry," he moaned, his voice ragged. "Oh, crap, I'm so…"
