I had left America alone for a while just to give him some space, but when I had come back he was still laying there curled up on the floor. It turns out he had actually fallen asleep. I couldn't believe he was still lying there, like a helpless child; it's pathetic. I placed him to bed and then went to sleep myself, but I had forgotten that America isn't always as dumb as he looks. He is the first country ever to learn all the languages in the world and speak them fluently and he did beat me to the moon, but I'm not going to go there. America had found his own way to make words.

"*scribble* *scribble*"

"Hmm"?

It was about 4:00 AM when I had heard some strange scribbling sound throughout the house. I leaned up in my bed and pulled over the thick cover to switch on my nightstand lamp. I rubbed my eyes, fixed my sweater, and strolled into the living room.

Before I turned the lights on I followed the sound of the scribbling. The sound eventually led me to my work desk. I could faintly see America's curl bouncy as he moved at a seemly fast pace. I stood hovering over America and when I turned on the lights I saw him clutching a pen tightly in his right hand.

"…"!?

America was so surprised by my entrance that he fell out of the chair he was sitting in. It was kind of cute until I looked over at what he was doing. Scattered on my desk were pages and pages of hand written letters. I looked back at the frightened America with a dry expression.

"America…"?

"…."

I knelt down in front of him and as he tried to squirm away I held out my hand and said "America give me the pen".

Instead of handing me the pen he tightly clutched in his hands he trembled as he handed me a piece of paper he had shoved in his pocket. It was crumbled into a little ball so I unraveled it, and in really sloppy hand writing, it said "[Why?]"

"Haha… Why? Hahaha! You are so funny America!" I crumbled up the small paper as America looked up at me confused.

"…."?

Eventually I stopped laughing and pulled America up by the neck of his jacket. I explained "Did you think I ripped out your throat all on a whim? No I did of specifically so you couldn't speak. I wanted to make damn sure that you could say a single word with that flapping tongue of yours. Now I won't ask again America give me the pen".

It was almost amusing. America trembled and looked as if he was about to burst into tears. He dropped the pen he held so tightly and I swiped it from the floor. I let go of his jacket and commanded him firmly "Now go back to bed".

"…."

America sluggishly slinked back onto the couch, curled up and went back to sleep. Although I on the other hand could not get back to sleep; I tossed, turned, and struggled to keep my body still and my eyes shut. My God? How does America fall asleep so fast without any trouble?

I reluctantly kicked off my covers and wandered into the kitchen to grab a mug of vodka. It's sweet with a sharp punch to enlighten your tongue. After some groaning and grogginess I became bored enough to take a glance at what America had so desperately tried to write.

Those scrambled papers were scattered across my desk and most of them were simple American phrases.

"[I'm hungry]"

"[This is lame]"

"[You're an ass!]"

"[I need a belt buckle]"? I couldn't quite understand that last one, but then the rest were letters to Japan, someone named Canada, and Britain. I at least decided to read Britain's.

"[Dear Britain,

You're probably thinking that I'm dead by now from eating too much, but really it's just a small cold. I'm trying to get through it quickly so I can return, but my boss has been in quite a fix lately with the economy and loss of jobs throughout the country so I might not be back for a while; in which case I'm leaving you in charge until I get back. I know you probably think I'm an idiot from doing all the things I do that you think are stupid, but really I'm fine. I promise you no matter how long I've been gone I'm completely alright. Anyway I've got a bunch of paper work to do; Ugh! This is so lame! Anyway see you around.

Sincerely, America]"

At that point I actually began to feel guilty, but I didn't regret anything. I placed the letter back on the desk and when America woke in the next couple of hours, after I placed a bowl of his usual bland beef broth, I placed the pen next to the steamy bowl. As usual I went to sit in my seat across from him and waited to see what he would do. America just looked at me really weird. He'd look down at the pen, then back at me, back down at the pen, and then again back at me. It was as if he was asking permission with his eyes if it was okay to take it. I just tilted my head, closed my eyes, and smiled.

America hesitated at first, but he quickly swiped it from the table and held it securely in his lap. He then quickly looked back at me, but I just mildly ate my breakfast. The expression of relief overwhelmed him entirely, as if he had just escaped a death sentence.

I went back to eating my breakfast and after a little while America suddenly reached down his jacket and pulled out a medium sized note book and immediately began to write. I looked at him unamused and said "You took my note book too"?

America nodded as he wrote, and when he was done he tore the paper from the spine, folded it in half, and pushed it down to the other end of the table to me. I looked at that white paper with indifference; I picked it up, and read it to myself.

"[Thanks asshole]"

"Hehe… Your quite welcome", I smiled in reply and America gave me this smirk as if it was to say that we were equal. He lifted his bowl and it one gulp he swallowed the whole thing; which probably wasn't the smartest idea because he choked, but you know American's when they're happy their happy idiots.

"*cough*!*cough*! ugh…"

"Hehe don't drink so fast America, you'll choke".

"Ehh…", America scribbled on his; well my notepad again and held it up in front of him, "[Right! Thanks again dick! : ) ]"

"Hehe…", I smiled back at him, but secretly I suggested in the back of my mind that maybe I'll just let him have the pen and my notepad on certain days of the week.


It took a while to notice, but it seemed as if the days were going by much faster. It's been a couple of weeks ever since America lost his voice, and the laceration on his neck was healing well, but it's pretty big.

When I unraveled his bandages for the last time the wound was a scar. It was a lighter tone compared to the rest of his skin. It wasn't like a thin line going across his neck. It was a thick line that stretched out like spikes as if it was spreading to the bottom of his chin down to the top of his collar bone. It wasn't pretty, but it wasn't unattractive or displeasing to the eye, it was just very obvious and rather difficult to miss.

When I gave America his breakfast I noticed something. I placed his sixth bowl of soup down and took a good long look at him. He looked up at me and asked "[Is something wrong?]"

"Hmm…? America do you feel weird"?

"[Um? I don't think so?]"

America looked so befuddled the entire time I observed him. I had realized that America had never been outside once ever since he got here. Maybe I should take him outside for once? I mean what am I supposed to do when he's as pale as the moon? I really didn't want to show him any kind of freedom, but just once I would like to see his reaction to the snow.

Like the total slob he is he picked the bowl up and drank the whole thing again. Then again maybe I'll just bury him in the snow?

"[Hey can I have another bowl!?]"

"Hmm? America…?", I took the bowl from him and then grabbed him gently by the chin.

"Ugh!? A-ahh…!?", he blushed so red, like a teenage virgin. I never get tired of messing with him. He was completely speechless it almost looked like he was going to wet himself.

I lifted his chin up at looked at that long stretched out scar that almost looked as if it was going to consume him. I pulled his face closer and mine half way and stated with a smile "America I know you're not a very big fan of snow, but you don't really have a choice because if you go against me I won't tolerate it. Hehe… and you've already learned that the hard way".

America was acting really weird. He was rubbing his knees together as if he had an itch and his cheeks were puffed out as if he was in some kind of pain. His face was as red as a tomato. I smirked and brought my face closer and whispered softly to him "What's wrong America? You got a problem down there? If you want I can help"?

"Ah… A-ahh…"

"Come on America use those pitiful little sounds to tell me what to do".

"Uh… Uahh"!

*smack*

America smacked my hand away and dashed into the bathroom. I stood there in surprise and America threw the paper at me. I picked it up and read it "[I've gotta take a major piss! Why'd you let me drink that much soup!? Asshole!]"

"Sigh~ because you asked for more. Idiot"

When America eventually took care of his business I made him put on his coat, his scarf, his boots, and even his mittens, but there was something missing. I looked at him and I realized that every time America walked his cowlick would bounce sometimes. I told him "You need a hat".

I handed him an old hat of mine. It had blue and red stripes on it, but unfortunately no white. He held it and looked at it distastefully.

"[Huh!? I don't need a hat! I'm a hero! Hero's don't wear hats like these! They wear Awesome really cool looking masks to hide their identity as they do badass things!]"

"America…"?

"[What!?]"

"Put the hat on"

After I gave him my death stare it didn't take long for America to put the hat on.

When I opened the front door America didn't hesitate once to burst through and leap into the snow. He was so enthusiastic and eager as nothing could stand in his way. He tumbled in the snow and rolled around in it. I lowered my head in disgrace and thought; he's such a child.

I left America enjoy himself for the day and looked around. In this place it doesn't stop snowing often so I took the chance to observe. When the amount of snow goes down somewhere out here there is a small but deep lake, but when it snows heavily it always manages to elude me because the snow tends to consume everything under it. I looked everywhere but I could remember where the lake was located; until I heard a crack echo from below, right underneath my feet. I turned and looked to my right to see America mindlessly jumping around, and the crackling sound didn't bother me until I heard it again, and it was coming from America's direction.

It was always an ability of mine; it's almost like a sixth sense, being able to hear the sounds that the snow absorbed. I kept telling myself it was nothing, but when I heard it again and louder this time I looked over towards America again and watched him stumble.

"America"!

I don't know what came over me? It happened so fast, but I never ran so fast for another person. I've felt it before, the sudden shift as your body plunders between the crushing ice and into the freezing water. That blistering cold doesn't just quickly take you and turn your body numb; it breaks you like thousands of small needles piercing through all your nerves at once. It horrific and excruciating, and as you helplessly bang on the ice to breath your heart is thumping and beating so loud and so hard that it feels like your is pounding against two rough cement bricks gradually pressing together.

I grabbed America by his hood and pulled him backwards almost dragging him. Then the idiot tripped again and we tumbled together down a small hill. America landed stuck on his back with his arms half way above his head and I hovered on top of him breathing heavily.

"…"!?, America looked up at me with a clueless expression.

"*pant**pant*", I was completely out of breath. Breathing in this dry frigid air could possibly be the death of me if I breathed it in hard enough.

America pulled his notebook out of his jacket and held it up to me "[Is there something wrong?]"

I'm exhausted and covered in snow, so it didn't take much for me to yell at him by that point, "You're moron! Can't you be anything but that!? Maybe I should have ripped off your head!? You'd be smarter that way"!

"Pfft…. Ha- ahaha… Ha- haha-ha"!

"Huh!? Why the hell are you laughing!? If I hadn't pulled you off the thin ice the lake would have taken you! You could have died- Uh"!?

I looked up towards where I thought the cracks of breaking ice were splitting, but the only thing I saw a small broken branch. An entire sentiment of humiliation and absurdity stabbed me right through the chest; my pride just couldn't take it, what I had just done. I got up and whacked my head on nearby trunk of a withered tree and from behind me I could still hear America laughing.

"Ha! Ha-haha-ha! Haha-ha"!

Covering one side of my face with my hand and with my head still against the tree, I slowly gazed over at America and watched, humiliated and chastened as he rolled around in the snow laughing his ass off at my mistaking. I was really mortified, my cheeks were flustering, but I was also astounded at the fact that America can still laugh. It was choppy and jagged but it was still his voice, his sound, the obnoxious resonance that I so satisfactorily robbed from him. His stuttered laugh was nothing like those pitiful sounds that managed to escape from his throat; no this was proof that America's spirit, his existence; his freedom could never be completely abolished.

After a couple of hours of watching America make sloppy snow angels, I eventually had to drag him back inside the house in order for him to come in. I had already had a fire going so the house was nice in warm. When America was dragged through the front door he got a full blast of heat and complained about his nose, cheeks, and ears stinging; god he's such a child.

It was already late evening, so I sat America on the couch on front of the fire and threw a wool blanket at him for him to wrap himself in. I hovered over the stove stirring a pot of hot milk and smooth melted chocolate. I turned around and looked at the back of the couch to see America's small cowlick just reaching above the top of the sofa and hollered "America, do you want some hot coco"?

America held the notebook up above his head and dramatically wrote "[Yes!]"

I scooped a ladle of hot coco into a two mugs and brought it over to the couch, handed one to America, and then sat next to him. It wasn't quite as America chugged his down in less than a minute and after he went back for three more cup fills he finally began to settle down. I guess that means America has some kind of ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder) because it's said that young children with ADHD are calmed or relaxed when the consumption of sugar or hyper drugs such as caffeine is consumed in the body.

America was just drowsy for a couple of minutes, but then he began leaning on my shoulder. I was planning on pushing him off, but he was so harmless even though he did drool quite a bit. He held up for a little while but his body began to shift and he rolled over onto my lap. I looked down at him rather annoyed.

"America…"?

"*snore* ugh… nawhh…"

"Hmm…", I refrained from touching him and tried to focus on the relaxing fire, but his sleeping face was rather amusing. He'd open his jaw wide and snore with snot and drool dripping from his face like a yak trying to eat water and blow his nose at the same time; it was rather disgusting. Although I have to say that it's the only way I like seeing America when he's still breathing. He's quiet, and there's a 100% guarantee that he won't wake up for a couple of hours and you can put him anywhere and he'll sleep.

I regret it but I lightly stroked America golden hair; it was soft. I had to at least rest one hand on him or else I would have had to hold my arms up all evening. Since I was so comfortable I decided to just get the best out of the moment.

As America laid there vulnerable and careless I could see his wrists. As he rolled around his jacket sleeve shifted up his arms. His fingers and wrists were thinner than usual and in such a cold environment you need a nice layer of fat to keep you warm. America, like me, was rather large and bulky with maybe a bit of flub. As an adult he was never on small side unless standing next to me, which was almost never, so it was weird to see his limbs so skinny; they looked like they could be effortlessly snapped or pulled.

Then again the only thing America has ever eaten for a couple of months now is simple beef broth; anyone would become malnourished from eating just that. Although he's never tried to eat solids, but no matter how you look at it, if America keeps going on like this; he'll die.

~To Be Continued...