Worth

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

[notes at end]

America awoke to the blaring of an alarm clock that he kept across the room, only to make usre he had to get up to turn it off and not just fall back to sleep. He sat up and attempted to rub the exhaustion out of his red eyes, fumbling for his glasses off of his bedside table.

He put his glasses on and squinted at the clock across the room. 8:45 am, it read. His eyes opened wide and suddenly he was awake, dashing from room to room, trying to get everything he needed together and get going before he was even later to the meeting that was supposed to start at 7:45 and he was supposed to be hosting.

Alfred stumbled down the halls of his small house in the Chicago suburbs, attempting to simultaneously get dressed and clean himself up, while also searching for his car keys and meeting information folders.

When he got to the kitchen, he opened up the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of antidepressants, quickly popping the cap off and moving to dump two into his hand only to find that...

There weren't any left.

Alfred looked in the small orange container desperately. "Fuck," he muttered, tossing it to the side. He would have to try to go through the entire day without the essential extra help that the medication gifted him, and it was going to be a problem.

He sighed, picking up his backpack and heading to the door, stepping out and grabbing his phone and keys on the way.


"Hey everyone, sorry I'm late! My alarm clock went off late," he stated, walking into the meeting room and setting his bag down behind his seat at the end of the table. He had ended up sat next to Russia and China, and he couldn't possibly be more fucking thrilled.

"Aiya, lazy westerner," he caught from the Chinese man on his right. He suppressed a sigh and tried to focus on getting his papers sorted out a little when he heard a whisper come from the nation on his left.

"What was that, Ruski?" he growled, setting the papers down on the table lightly and glared down at them, avoiding eye contact with the other.

"I said, that's awfully typical for you Americans. Rude, unpunctual, not to mention fat and stupid," he purred back. "Now that I think about it, you are a very stereotypical people, are you not?"

"Says the vodka-guzzling commie from Russia," Alfred spat bitterly.

"If you two have something to say, you can come present it when I'm done speaking. But until then, shut your traps, would you!" England called from the podium, glaring at the world powers at the end of the table.

"Sure thing Iggy! Sorry 'bout that!" he called, smiling. When England nodded and continued talking, he turned to glare at Ivan, only to find that he was watching England with a smug smile on his face. "...bastard."

Alfred went back to his notes once again, preparing to blabber some nonsense about heroes and fake happiness until he could manage to escape once again.

-------

Alfred smiled, waving the last nation (his brother) out of the room. When he was sure he was gone and the doors were shut, he collapsed against the podium, burying his face in his hands and pulling his knees up to his chest.

He sobbed pitifully, spasms wracking his entire body and forcing the air out of his lungs. The only sound in the room were his quiet, pained mewls.

Eventually, he calmed down enough to breathe again. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and moved to stand, noticing that his neck was cricked and his legs had fallen asleep.

He looked at the wall, tracing the cracks in the paint and the smudges in the window. Alfred took in all of the fine details of the buildings around theirs. He focused in on the vast expanse of water framing the horizon and just stared, leaning against the table and wrapping himself in a self-protective hug.

"You know, you're not as worthless as you think you are," he heard a voice state. He whipped around, fully expecting it to be one of the nations.

"Oh, Dee, it's just you," he breathed, his voice laced with relief. He looked the secretary over once, before turning back to the window. "You know, if you had been a nation, I might have had to jump out this here window," he laughed bitterly.

"Well then, I guess we're both lucky that I'm not," she laughed back, walking up to lean on the table next to him. "But I stand by my point; you aren't worthless. America is a great place. I came here to start over, and I got to. A new chance, a new life. Freedom."

"Yeah, America is great; I'm the one who's a complete fuck-up. Alfred, not America."

Dee stood in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and forcing his gaze to focus on her caramel-colored face. "Alfred. You are not bad. You are very good, Cariño. Don't let what the others think of you influence the way you think about yourself." She pulled him into a tight embrace, and he rested his head on her shoulder.

America almost started sobbing again, wrapping his arms around her waist and breathing against her skin, settling with the faint scents of cinnamon and mint that radiated off of her.

"Thanks."




~*~*~*~*~

hey guys. look, I know that this type of a plot is used really often, but I'm in... not the best place right now, and needed to do something, and writing is the best way for me to calm down just short of slamming my head into a wall until I black out or breaking down into tears (which isn't an option when I'm not home alone.)

and I don't know who dee is, but she's a secretary that works in Chicago who came from cuba to escape their whole situation and an abusive (in more ways than one) relationship, which is why she really likes America. Shes also really close with Alfred and knows his whole situation (obviously). maybe I should include her more often.....?
so yeah anyway here you go some sad Alfred that none of you asked for but got anyway




You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net