You had made an agreement with England to have America gather all his stuff and come live with you after the end of the next meeting, since it seemed like the easiest way to transport him from England's house to yours. The next meeting wasn't for another three weeks, so you still had time to prepare until America would've arrived. A part of you felt like you had nothing to prepare for, since you pretty much felt like you were already capable enough of taking care of him and there was nothing in the house that needed to be fixed. You already had a guest room set up for him, so you were able to spend the next three weeks relaxing.
During that time span, you were able to detect a tiny feeling of loneliness that started to stir inside you. A part of you wanted these three weeks to be over and for the meeting to come already so America would've been able to live with you.
America was going to be living with you. America. Living with you. Living with you. Living with you.
It's not like there was anything weird about him living with you anyway! It was only going to be until you taught him how to take care of himself and he would've been able to live on his own.
You also went over the things that you were going to have to teach him. That included cooking, driving, shopping, and other housework such as ironing, laundry, and vacuuming. If you were going to be the one teaching him, you would've at least made sure that he knew how to keep his house relatively clean a bit unlike before.
Pretty soon, three weeks had passed and you had to go to the meeting, and you honestly felt like you had never been more eager and anxious to go. You were no longer going to be living alone like you always were—at least, for the next few months or so.
You didn't arrive early for the meeting like you did last time, but you were still anticipating the moment when the meeting would've finally ended and you would've been able to take America home.
When you walked down the hallway of the floor of the building where the meeting was going to be held, you were able to spot someone sitting on a bench attached to one of the walls, and you saw a lot of bags and suitcases with them. Your gaze brightened when you realized that it was America.
"Alfred!" you called out as you quickened your pace, already headed in his direction.
At the sound of your voice, America lifted his head and his gaze, which was previously fixed on the ground, shifted so that he was staring at you. Instantly, a smile came to his face when his eyes locked with yours. "Hello, _____," he said warmly as soon as you were within earshot of him.
You paused when you were a few feet in front of America, drifting your gaze to the luggage he had brought along with him. "Wow, you sure have a lot of stuff with you..."
America let out a tiny chuckle. "Well, if I'm going to be living with you, I'm going to need to bring all of my things with me...."
"Are you excited?" The words came out of your mouth before you were able to stop them.
He lifted his gaze so that he was able to look at you, a slightly confused expression on his face. "Excited for what?"
You felt a small part of your throat start to close and you forced a smile on your face. He was acting just like the old America—hardly, if ever, having the ability to read the atmosphere.
"Excited for, you know...coming to...live...with me...." Your words trailed off so that they were barely able to be heard, and you rubbed the back of your neck with your hand as you felt your cheeks turn warm.
America didn't seem to notice how you had gotten flustered and instead gave you a smile. "Of course I'm excited!" he replied happily. "I finally get to be away from Mr. Kirkland and eat food that actually tastes good."
"Speaking of him," you said as you removed your hand from your neck and took a brief look around, "where is he?"
"Oh, he went over to the meeting room," America said as he pointed towards one direction of the hallway. "He told me to stay out here."
"But aren't you coming, too?" you asked in confusion.
He shook his head. "It's going to be crowded for me to have all my stuff there. I also think it's better if I don't go."
"But aren't you going to get bored out here?"
America shook his head once again and smiled as he patted the bag that was next to him on the bench. "I know how to keep myself occupied until the meeting's finished."
"Oh..." you murmured before you dropped your gaze down to the ground. After a few moments of silence passed, you cleared your throat and shifted your gaze to look down the hallway. "Well, I guess I better get going..." you muttered.
"Okay," America said as you turned around and began to head down the hall. "I'll see you after the meeting, _____."
"Sure," you called over your shoulder as you continued to walk. A part of you wanted the meeting to end already so America could've gone with you, but another part of you wanted that moment to never come.
You, America, and England stood outside the front entrance to the building where the meeting had been held. The conference ended some time ago, and the three of you decided to stay until all the other countries left so that America could've said goodbye to England without having any interruptions.
An awkward silence passed between the three of you which lasted seemingly forever. You continued to stand there, shifting your gaze from America to England to the ground, feeling the cool wind brush gently through your hair. America stood there tightly grasping some of his luggage with both hands, though the rest stood on the ground next to him.
Finally, you cleared your throat and looked up at the both of them. "So..." you began quietly. "Are the two of you going to say goodbye or something?"
"Oh, right," America said before he put one of his bags down on the ground and turned to the side, sticking his hand out towards England. "It was, um...great living with you for these past few months...Mr. Kirkland."
England looked up to meet the gaze of America, and he was silent for a few moments before he slowly, hesitantly lifted his hand so that it was able to grasp America's before he gave it a small shake. "Er...yeah...."
You continued to watch the two of them, and you saw a slight look of pain and grief visible on England's face. Why is he so upset? you thought as you mentally frowned. It's not like he actually enjoyed having America live with him or anything.
A sudden thought struck you, and it made your confusion become replaced with a bit of pity. Oh, he probably might feel like it's a bit like losing America all over again...
But you quickly took that thought out of your head before you clasped your hands together and looked at America. "So, are we going to be going now or not?"
He shifted his gaze over to look at you and nodded. "Sure." Taking one last look at England, he said, "Bye, Mr. Kirkland. I'll see you at the next meeting."
England dropped his gaze down to the ground before he mumbled, "Sure."
With that, you helped carry some of America's luggage before the both of you began to head off in the direction towards your home.
This is so awkward! you thought as you shifted in your seat uncomfortably. You didn't have any beforehand thoughts about how the plane ride home was going to be like, but now that it was happening, you felt very claustrophobic. Although America was sitting in the seat directly next to you, it felt like he was way too close to you. And of course you just had to choose the window seat to keep yourself occupied throughout the ride. You had never been on a plane with America before, and this sudden experience made you all the more uncomfortable.
America, however, didn't seem to pay attention to this fact and instead covered his mouth with his hand and let out a yawn. "I'm tired...."
You looked out the window, and you realized that it was already night and you were able to see the lights of several cities as you looked down. It was a very pretty sight, but you weren't comforted by it. Instead, you reluctantly turned your head around to look at America and scooted a little away from him. "Aren't you going to eat anything here?"
He shook his head. "I packed my own food before I left, and plane food isn't all that good."
You nodded before you turned your head back to look out the window. "Oh, okay."
A silence swept between the both of you, and this one seemed to last for about half an hour. Looking out the window seemed much more entertaining at this point than talking to America when he was this close to you, so you just chose to go along with it.
After a reasonable amount of time passed, you actually had forgotten that America was sitting next to you and were now able to breathe a little easier.
At least, until you felt something gently rest on your left shoulder.
Quickly, you turned your head to the side and almost had a heart attack when you saw America's head comfortably rested against you, his eyes closed and his breaths coming out soft and light.
Your eyes widened and your heart rate increased when you realized what was happening. America was sleeping on you. Well, not exactly on you, but on you enough to make your face turn a significant shade of red.
For a moment, you were frozen, unable to decide what to do. You were able to feel America's warm breath against your shoulder, and you almost jumped in surprise when you felt his cowlick tickle you under your chin. Somehow, you found the ability to shakily raise a hand and gently push him away from you, back over to his own seat.
The action caused America to let out a tiny grunt before he let out a yawn and opened his eyes, shifting his gaze over to the side to look at you. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice slurred with sleep. "Was I leaning on you?"
You crossed your arms and turned your head away from him, focusing your gaze out the window. "No," you said briskly, hoping America wouldn't have seen how red your face became. "Not at all."
America continued to stare at you in a bit of confusion for a few more moments before he closed his eyes and fell asleep once again. This time, he seemed to have no intentions of leaning on your shoulder again.
Good. Things were already awkward for you, and America hadn't even arrived at your house yet. You wondered how you were going to survive him living with you for weeks, or months, or even more, though you certainly hoped it wouldn't have come to that.
You sighed before you pressed your cheek against the cold window, not caring about how the chill was slowly starting to numb your face. You figured you could've been able to take a nap for a while before the plane landed just to make time go by quickly.
You sighed before you slowly closed your eyes and quietly fell asleep.
"Well, here we are," you said a bit hesitantly after you opened the door to your house and stepped to the side to allow America to look inside.
"Wow..." he murmured before he took a step indoors and looked around. "Your house is really nice, _____."
"Thanks..." you muttered as you took some of his luggage and headed inside before America did the same as well, still examining almost every part of the house that he passed as you led him over to the living room. He was acting as if he hadn't visited your house several other times before, but those times occurred before he lost his memory. Now, everything was all new to him.
Once the both of you arrived in the living room, you paused and set America's stuff down on the floor before you turned around to face him as he looked at you expectantly. "Okay, I have a guest room where you can sleep," you said to him. "It's on the upper floor, so we can put all your stuff down in there."
Once the both of you walked up the steps and arrived at the door to the guest room, you paused and set one of America's bags you were holding down on the ground so that you were able to grasp the doorknob and open the closed door. You picked up America's bag once again and walked inside, setting some of his stuff down on the floor next to the bed.
America, however, continued to stand in the doorway, examining the guest room with slightly wide, curious eyes. "This room looks different from the one I slept in at Mr. Kirkland's."
"Of course," you said with a bit of a chuckle, your lips curving slightly upward in a small smile. "Did you expect it to look the same?"
"N-No," he muttered before he took the rest of his stuff, walked inside the room, and set it down next to the bed where you had put his other bags.
"So," you said after a few moments of silence passed and you crossed your arms. "Do you want me to help you unpack or anything, Alfred?"
America shook his head before he lowered his gaze to look at one of his bags. "No, I think I'm fine for now."
You nodded before you turned around and proceeded to walk out the door. After sitting directly next to America for several hours, you needed some time by yourself and time to get used to having him in your house.
That night you lay in your bed, your eyes open wide and not having any intentions of closing and allowing you to fall asleep. You continued to stare up at the ceiling, barely visible through the poor lighting, as several thoughts ran through your head.
If felt so weird sleeping knowing that someone else was in your house as well. Although America had frequently visited your house before, you didn't remember a time when he had ever slept over, and even if he did, you would've been more than comfortable about it. But now, even though you were getting to know the "new" America a lot better that you were before, you couldn't have helped but feel a bit uneasy of the thought of having him sleep in your house.
You shook your head, trying to get the thought out of your mind. You had to try and force yourself to get used to it. After all, America was going to sleeping under the same roof as you for the next few months or so.
However, you couldn't have helped but feel a pang of sadness as you thought about the moment when he first entered your house. The last time that America had visited you—well, it hadn't really been much of a visit—was after you had gotten out of your depression and he had gone over to...apologize.
That was a new, sudden thought that struck you and pierced your heart, and you felt a new wave of emotions spread through you. After you had yelled at America, he had attempted to apologize, saying that he was sorry for everything, but you had so ruthlessly slammed the door right in his face without even giving him the chance to say anything more.
You drew in a shaky gasp before you clutched the covers and dug your fingers into the fabric, shutting your eyes tight as the memories flashed in your head. The memories that America no longer remembered. Oh, if only you had let him apologize. If only you had let him say that he was sorry. If only you hadn't yelled at him and told him to get out, but rather given time to explain himself, everything would've been fine. You and America had been in too stable of a relationship for you to have so cruelly bashed at him with words after he had done such a thing that could've easily been forgiven through an explanation and an apology.
Why couldn't you have just let him tell you he was sorry? Why did you have to kick him out of your house? Why did he have to get into a car accident and lose his memory? Why couldn't he just get it back through some kind of trigger?
But all the triggers you were able to think of hadn't worked and most likely never would have anyway. You just had to accept the fact that America's memory was irretrievable.
But after nearly three months, you still found it hard to believe that you never would've gotten the old America back again.