America's World

Chapter Eighteen: Burn

This chapter is smaller than the others. Like way smaller. Honestly, college life has been killing me so I might have this story on slow updates. I won't dish out chapters all too often, but when I do I promise they'll be long and detailed. I'm sorry and hopefully, I can update soon.

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The nations and states all arrived back late, maybe around 11 to 11:30 PM. Anyone who was asleep was carried into the house, everyone is quiet as a mouse. When Ivan unlocked the door carrying Alfred, he was met with a coy Finland reading a book in the foyer.

"Nice to see everyone back safe and sound. How was the trip?" Finland asked with a seemingly innocent smile. Ivan grunted and ignored him, walking him and Alfred to their room. Finland chuckled, "maybe next time he'll be more gentle with my baby boy," Finland put down the book on the side table as the fireplace began to dim. He stretched out and cracked his back, "well I just stayed up to see his reaction. Goodnight everybody!" Tino waved everyone off as he headed to his shared suite with Berwald. All the nations put the states to bed and turned in themselves, unaware of a stray ember flying towards Finland's book.

It was 3:30 when Francis and Arthur awoke to the smell of smoke. England's nose was sniffing rapidly and France sat up looking at the door. England then sat up and quietly walked to the door. Putting his hand gently upon the frame, he felt for any heat. Well, judging by the painful yelp he gave, France immediately ran to open the door. The hallway was flooded with smoke! China, Germany, Romano, Prussia, and Hungary all left their rooms at the same time to discover the same thing.

"FIRE!!!" Romano yelled running down the hall and flipping the fire alarm. As it turned out, the fire system had been shut off after another one of Levi's cooking fails. The alarms sounded throughout the entire house, the earthquake of footsteps evacuating the home quickly. The fire had engulfed the entire ground level floor! The kitchen, music room, craft room, living room, library, reading nook, gaming room, media room, pantry, and foyer were melted to nothing.

"Everybody keep moving! You know the drill! Stay low!" Alfred was behind the group, helping them scurry through the flames to the safety of the driveway. Alfred kept guiding those who wandered off back to the escape route, looking at all the priceless memories he's collected burn to ash. His beautiful piano from Freddie was crispy, his first edition books were scraps, his copy of Spongebob's design from none other than Stephen Hillenburg was charred, and his tiny trolly momento from Mr. Rogers was now a glob of melted goo. His heart ached with every item he saw destroyed, but his kids needed to get to safety. While those items would never be replaced, his kids meant more than the stars to him. When everyone was outside a gust of wind blew the fire towards the higher floors, devouring the house with its red inferno. Alfred began to do a headcount of all his kids, his heart stopping. He realized Vivian wouldn't have woken up with her tubes in, and even if she did she would be too petrified to move. Ivan saw the look in Alfred's eyes.

"Fredka, no," Ivan held onto Alfred's arm with one hand and coddled little Samoa with the other, "don't you dare go back in there," the other nations looked at Alfred. They held their breath, waiting to hear his response. Alfred sighed and nodded, Ivan, loosening his grip. He put his head in the crook of Ivan's neck, a tear streaming down his face.

"I have to. I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing Ivan's cheek before he could comprehend what his husband said. When Ivan finally realized what he whispered, his eyes shot open. He felt the warm comfort of his sunflower push from his embrace and leave him.

"Fredka, wait!" Ivan yelled as Alfred darted back into the house. Alfred ran through the entire first floor without a single problem. Although he was tripping on the burning rug and hot bamboo flooring though.