Addicted (America x Germany) DISCONTINUED

Ch. 15 Welcome Home

A/N: This Chapter switches POV's a lot, so be mindful of that.

(Japan's POV)

 He was gone.

 The bedsheets were empty. Where he was supposed to lay, soundlessly asleep. Away in a dreamland where I could never go.

 That bastard. Why didn't he at least wake me up? 

 Staring at the bed was the only thing I could do to stop myself from screaming in fury.

 Germany opened the door moments later and I heard him gasp slightly.

 Birds tweeted outside, and morning traffic sounds made their way into the small room. Germany stepped closer to me and just stared at the empty bed as well.

 "Where do you think he went?" He asked, his voice unamused and honestly, he didn't sound curious.

 "Probably back home." My answer was short and sweet, unable to bring myself to say anything more on the matter.

 I wasn't necessarily surprised. I kind of expected him to pull a stunt like this. It still hurt to realize he must not care that much about me to just leave without saying anything.

 Tears pricked my eyes but I forced them back. I wasn't about to cry for the bastard that always left me behind. The best friend that never got back to me. That only saw me as an asset. A tool, a resource to use when he needed me.

 I wasn't going to let myself keep trying to fix things when they were never broken in the first place. Why should I continue to put him first when he looks straight through me?

 Turning away, I grabbed my things and stuffed them into my bag. I tied my hair up in a black sash and gave Germany a short goodbye.

 Leaving the apartment, I took a taxi home and cursed America and all I ever did for him.

(America's POV)

 Russia's house looked the same, just cleaner than I had left it. I hid the key back under the fake rock outside and closed the door. The house was quiet. Russia might be at work. It was Monday after all.

 I slumped down on the couch and sighed. Maybe I could go somewhere. Nah, too tired. I'll just surprise Russia when he gets home. Maybe I could make dinner or something. He might let me off easy if I did. Although, I can never seem to predict when he'll beat the shit out of me and when he'll cuddle me and make me breakfast in bed.

 I felt somewhat bad for just leaving Germany and Japan, but I didn't feel the need to say anything to them. I still felt as though I was in Germany's debt. I needed to pay him back for what he did. I had just realized my bandages were fresh and I had clean clothes on for the first time in what seemed like ages.

 He didn't have to save my ass like that, he could have just left me to writhe in pain in that dirty alley. 

 My visions and hallucinations came to mind. Confederate was dead. He can't hurt me anymore. He's just a figment of my imagination now. Sometimes I question if he was real in the first place, then I remember Canada watching as my flag split in two and Confederate tore from my body like some parasite, free from its host.

 I knew I had to thank Germany somehow. Maybe I'd catch him at his work. No, too formal and weird. Maybe I'd ask him to dinner? No, Russia would be jealous and beat me and then Germany. Could I send him a letter? No...

 Well, maybe. No one would know... it could be discreet...

 All I knew was I wanted to see him again. He sparked something dormant in me. Long-buried and covered, but somehow he kindled the embers again. To what, I have no idea. I didn't realize someone I hardly knew could cause so much turmoil inside me. What have I become? Does this make me weak? Does this make me vulnerable?