Black Coffee :|: America x Russia :|: Countryhumans

Part 2, Act I, Chapter Two

He always hated the smell of hospitals.

It was a clean smell, but not the good kind. Not the kind that reminded you of washing your hands before you started messily trying to cook pancakes with your mum. Or when you would take a bath after playing in mud.

The bad kind.

The kind that smelt of sterilisation, of germs, of death. Of people passing away every second without anyone really caring at all. The kind of smell that anyone would hate to be their last, but it often is.

"I brought you flowers," America said, placing them beside Antartica's hard, plastic-covered bed eith a weak smile. "They smell nice."

"I told him to get them later since it took us extra time to get here."

"Shut up Russ I was trina be nice."

"No no, I love them, thank you," Antartica signed with a kind smile as his hands trembled. "They help distract from the blandness of this room."

Greenland translated for the others, rubbing Antartica's back. He didn't want to think about how wet his hand was, nor how the plastic on the bed was soaked.

"Where is everyone else?" Russia asked, referring to some of the other friends Antartica had made over the last four years he had known him.

"We haven't told them yet," Greenland said. "We wanted to keep it private."

"Why wouls you want to keep your suffering private??" America said incredulously.

"Because I'm dying America," Antartica signed.

America looked at Greenland for a translation but was only met with a teary, defeated look. Greenland hung his head in shame as Antartica picked up a pen and paper from his bedside and began writing out everything he wanted to say.

He knew Greenland wouldn't have the strength to tell them everything - besides, he had a few special things he wanted to say himself.

Russia, America and Mexico waited patiently for Antartica to finish writing; although I supposed patient wouldnt be a good word to describe the two latter countries. America was clenching his jaw and anxiously playing with the zipper of his hoodie while Mexico nervously twitched and ticked in the corner. Occasionally the silence would be punctured by one of his vocal ticks like swearing or saying "whoooo!" which America wanted so desperately to laugh at to cheer himself but just couldn't.

Soon Antartica held up his paper for them all to read.

"I'm dying.

"The doctors say that my condition has gotten so out of hand, and had no treatment for so long that they can't really put it off anymore. I told them that I didn't want them to either. No use delaying the inevitable.

"I'm going to melt and die and there's nothing anyone can do, so it's better to just confront it."

Russia's breath hitched in his throat and America's eyes began watering.

"Ani, you don't know that," America pleaded. "I'm sure there's something we can do to help you!"

Antartica shook his head solemnly, turning the page over in his notepad and began scribbling down a new response.

"It's already too late. You don't understand."

"Then help us understand," Russia said gently.

Antartica frowned and sighed, put the notepad back on the bedside table next to him. He moved the pillow covering his legs and pulled off the cheap, uncomfortable blanket.