Ch. 2

America slept fitfully through the night but England was true to his promise and stayed by his side. He didn't get much sleep because about every hour, his guest would start shaking and whimpering, twitching away from imaginary foes. England would immediately hush him, telling him everything was all right and that he was safe, there was nothing to worry about. America would fall back into an uneasy sleep and about an hour later, the routine would repeat itself. All in all, America slept for about 3 full hours before waking up.

Said man still looked dead tired, but it seemed worse knowing that he had tasted the sweet waters of sleep yet couldn't immerse fully into the lake. When he had fully woken up, he turned to England to find him asleep. He let out a sigh that turned into a choked sob when he looked around the room. The sun hadn't risen yet and the room was still cast in dark shadows. And in every dark shadow, America saw another foe, another enemy, another person trying to hurt him. He crawled to England's side and let out a whimper, trying to get as close as possible to the protection his companion offered. What he wasn't expecting was an arm sleepily draping over him as his protector turned onto his side, pulling the frightened man closer to his body. America shivered for a few more minutes before relaxing in his grip, eyes drooping but still denying him the release of sleep.

He layed there for what seemed like hours, staring at nothing before he felt England start to stir next to him and without any reason, panic shot through him. He tried to squirm away from England, his mind running so fast he could barely catch his thoughts.

"He's gonna be angry!"

"You haven't fixed anything."

"You should have been asleep."

"You kept him up all night."

"He's gonna hate you...

Hate you...

Hate you!"

He gasped, tears springing to his eyes. He had to get away! What if he hated him? What if he was with them? What if he lied to him? He shuddered, sobbing. No no no! England couldn't hate him, couldn't hurt him! When England's grasp tightened around him as he woke up, America become hysterical. He wretched himself away from the increasingly tight grip and ran. He ran to the door and wretched it open, running down the halls. He needed to hide. Now. He opened the closest door, a closet, and stumbled into it, shutting the door behind him. He dug past the coats and such and buried himself into the farthest, deepest corner of the closet, trembling.

"Alfred?"

A tiny sob escaped him and he shuddered. England was angry, he knew it. Oh God oh God. The door opened and a light flicked on. America looked up to see England looking down at him, eyes wide and confused.

"Alfred, what are you doing in here? And why did you bolt out of there so fast?"

Oh God, he was going to hurt him. Hurt him in more ways than one. He let out a sob before curling tightly into himself.

"Oh Alfred." England crawled into the closet and sat next to America, pulling him to his body. "What is the matter?"

He didn't even know how to put into words his feelings right now. He tried to jumble together a sentence, the thought that if he didn't use correct grammer, England would slap him floating into his head. "I-I, you, I'm sorry! I tried to sleep and none of my work is here and please don't hate me! D-don't h-hit me! I wanted to sleep and there's so much work but I couldn't do any and they were going to hurt me and I didn't want you to hurt me. P-please, please, please!"

England sat there blinking for a second. Once the jumbled mess starting to make a little more sense in his head, he looked at America sympathetically. "Oh Alfred, I wouldn't hurt you. Hush now, I'm not angry and they are not here. Come now, let's get something to eat, okay?"

America looked at him before sighing happily and nodding.

"Let's."