The Assasination Game

That's Some Funny Shit

America and Canada made it home by around 11:00am, wanting nothing more than to trudged up to their rooms and sleep the day away.

Unfortunately, such was not the case, when they were stopped on their way up the stairs by two voices.

"AMERICA! CANADA!"

"MES BÉBÉS!"

They turned slowly to face the disapproving looks of their parents. France's was more upset and scared than disappointed, though. UK held a look that was also on the angry side.

"Just where have you two been? We've been worked sick!"

"We-we were at a friend's house! I forgot to tell you guys. I'm sorry," America rubbed the nape of his neck and lowered his head in shame.

"You better be, your mother has been up all night, just pacing! I've called the police station several times. The Japan twins had no idea where you were. I couldn't get a hold of Germany or Poland! And that Filipino kid didn't know where you were either!"

"What friend?" France cried.

"We...we were at Russia's house," Canada said. "We just spent the night there having fun. Germany and Poland were with us."

"I'm surprised at you, Canada. I would expect this kind of negligence from your brother, but not from you," UK said, narrowing his eyes.

Canada looked down at his shoes.

"Both of you are to go to your rooms and stay there until I call you down. Understood."

They nodded.

"I said, 'Is that understood?'"

"Yes Dad," they both replied.

UK waved them off and stormed away, while the two brothers took off to their rooms. France followed after her husband, trying to make him somewhat calmer.

America shut his door, feeling upset.
He knew it was his fault, but fuck.

Britain's comment from earlier really hit him hard.

'I would expect this kind of negligence from your brother...'

He sighed, letting himself fall backwards on the bed. He stared dazedly at the ceiling.

Do they really think that of me? Am I that much of a screwup?

The thoughts and words ate at his mind, and he felt tears quickly welling up in his eyes. He turned on his side and let them run down his nose and the side of his face. He sobbed quietly and rubbed his face on his pillow to wipe away the salty tears and snot that dribbled. He couldn't help a few strangled cries that sounded just a bit too loud. Next thing he knew, he was hiccuping.

Pangea I'm so fucking pathetic. I must look like shit right now.

In times like these, he had one person he felt like talking to.

Holding his breath to rid himself of his hiccups, he got off the bed and went to his window.
He opened it and removed the screen, sticking his head out.

It was only one story, but man, it looked like a long drop from up here. Thankfully, he's done this before.
A few times.

He used his right hand to hold onto the little ledge of the window and pushed his feet out, so he was dangling from the window ledge. He stretched his feet as far as they could go, until he felt one of them touch another window below his. He placed his other foot there, settling them carefully on it.
He breathed out and crouched quickly, grabbing the ledge his feet were on just as fast and letting his feet give out so he was dangling from the first story window. The he let go and dropped to the ground, legs bending to prevent too much shock from traveling up them. He stumbled a little and leaned forward, but his hands shot forward in quick reaction and caught the ground in front of him.

"Just gets easier every time," he whispered to himself.

Where he dropped from landed him right behind some bushes that lined this wall of the house. He peeked through he window he was just on to see if Britain and France were anywhere to be seen.
They were. UK was sitting in his favorite armrest chair and sipping some tea, as usual. France was squeezed in next to him and snuggling him and kissing the top of his head.

Sometimes it was almost comical how tall France was compared to her husband. Before, America could've snorted at the sight.

He crawled out of the window view and stood up to brush himself off. Then, he simply walked down the driveway and down the street.

After 20 minutes of walking, his feet finally brought him to the house whose doorstep he'd appeared on many times when upset.

His mother's. Spain.