When morning arose, the smell of the fresh morning breeze shrouded the room in a bright light.

The sun shown, and the door bell rang.

The scruffy man opened his eyes at a leisurely pace, getting the grasp on reality as we know it. Wiggling his big toe, he crawled out of bed and the door bell rang again.

'Dammit', America grimaced at himself. He really should just stay in bed, it was a perfect Sunday, ya know, the one with no meetings.

The American briskly put on some jeans on and a white t-shirt before giving his hair a quick pat here and there, making sure he looked somewhat presentable, you never know, it could be England behind that door, waiting to scorn him for his appearance... oh...

'Poor Alfred, if it is England behind that door you're fucked.' Allen was right, he wouldn't have anything to say. No excuse, nothing. America's face grew pail as he reached the front door to his home, someone was already peering inside, someone tall.

Oh God.

How was he supposed to answer to Russia!?

'Don't answer at all.' The voice crept in his head, he could just imagine the devilish smirk the twin was giving.

Maybe he was right though, maybe he shouldn't answer what if Russia has come to confront him about England, what if he had come here to scold him like he did when he was younger.

'Remember, he used to beat you!'

He just kept getting louder and louder, it was painful to his ears. Allen's' reeking voice as it tried to invade and persuade him mind.

Against all odds though, he finally opened the door.

Unlocking it and setting away the chain, the door steadily opened, if felt like the door could actually feel his terror and was doing him a favor.

"Privet Ameriki." Russia solemnly greeted, his posture indicating he wasn't here to mess around.

America earnestly slammed the door shut, completely changing his demeanor completely from scared in an instant. Their eyes never left each other in the process.

"Coffee?" America inquired, getting leading the tall man to the kitchen, and grasping two coffee cups from the cabinets above the counters.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." The violet man commented, completely disregarding the question, still giving his former brother a dark glare.

"Coffee or no?" Alfred egged on, setting in the filter and the grounded coffee into the pot, if Russia wanted to play that game then whatever.

"Shtraf (Fine), whatever." Leaning on the counter towards the American who was just standing there with his arms crossed, looking into the distance.

"We need to talk Fredya." Ivan lowered his hand on the young nations shoulder, he could feel the tension in his shoulders.

"About?" America could only mumble out, his should with Russia's hand on it slouched.

"Amerika, you did something horrible, you must talk about it."

'Talk about it?' Allen could only give off a snarl.

America detached himself away from the helping hand, he could feel the fingers glide away from his shoulder, and a sense of terror came across him, yet he could not control the voice that always inched towards his subconscious, wanting full control.

"There isn't anything to talk about." The American's Serene voice was like a whisper and his eyes seemed to be shivering. Russia was witnessing the American's cold- freezing eyes as he glanced over to the coffee pot. It was done.

"Sugar?" Ivan saw the flow of the finished coffee drip into the coffee cup.

"Nyet," Ivan replied.

"Hhm," Was Alfred's response.

Alfred walked the cups over to the little table that sat in the middle of the kitchen, Russia contemplated on sitting down, in fear things might get out of hand, but he did sit due to respect because yes, he had that.

'Just one more sip till you're dead.' The voice chanted.

"Just one more sip till you're dead." America sang back before taking a drink.

"I'm sorry?" Russia quickly glanced back at the American.

He was just staring into his coffee cup. He looked dazed and confused and yet he looked sorrowful.

His eyes looked as if he witnessed the worse crime in his life, or... he was regretting.

The Russian nation rised from his seat, keeled down in front of the younger, stationed his left hand on his right knee. "It wasn't your fault," The solemn voice traveled to America's ears.

'Tsk, yes it was, don't let him make you think otherwise.'

"Yes it was." He sighed, setting the coffee cup on the table, he went to get up but was unable to, he was being held down.

'Kick him.' Alfred did so. Planting his feet on the Russian's chest, giving a furious shove of his foot, sending his backwards, landing on his back.

Alfred raced to get up, slamming his feet into the ground. The fierce blood running through his body like a lightning bolt. It felt like destiny to him, The slamming, the yelling, the hurt and pain but what stood out the most was the voice.

"You don't have the right!" The American shouted, his voice booming off the walls, making them shake. He was boiling with anger, and yet he didn't know why.

Ashen hair had fallen in the Russians face. "Amerika, please just listen, you need to talk about it." Russia lifted himself to get up.

"We don't need to talk about anything!" Rage crawled out of the Americans voice.

"Get out!" Roared through Alfred, pointing in the direction of the door.

Scurried to his feet in a swift motion. It wasn't because he was truly terrified, although he was somewhat frightened, Ivan hurtled to his feet.

America manhandled Russia out the door with a loud slam, and a lock.

Then they both stood there in silence.

You could hear their breathing, soft and slow fatigue breaths.

Both nations sank slowly down the door on the opposite sides.

Ivan planted a hand on the door.

Alfred leaned against it.

"Just because we aren't brothers anymore, doesn't mean I don't care, talk to me when you need to, da?"

And the coffee sat cold.


My favorite chapter so far.
Later in the future I wanna have this re-written, but I might do that when the series is finished

On the blog site, it says- 'Unleash your imagination and let the words flow...'- I will be sticking to this.