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“Is it too late to eat elsewhere?” Russia sighed.
“Yes,” America responded.
They were seated in an Arby’s, awaiting their food’s arrival. Russia insisted he wasn’t that hungry right now, and he’d be fine with a water. America told him that he wouldn’t be eating Arby’s by himself, and this time they both had to do it.
America reassured him by saying Arby’s wasn’t so bad, but Russia wasn’t sure. Based off what he saw and heard on the internet, he felt they would be paying a visit to the hospital soon, and seeing as they were currently in the United States, he would prefer not to have his wallet emptied out.
“When was the last time you have eaten Arby’s?” He questioned. America brought a hand to his chin. “Uh, it was… uh… um…”
Come to think of it, when was the last time he ate Arby’s? He could’ve sworn he had it at least once in his life, but in terms of memories, he was coming up blank. His head was starting to hurt, so he waved the question away. “Bah, it doesn’t matter! It’s always good to try new things, dude.” Russia shrugged halfheartedly. “Yes, but—“
Their waitress approached the table, face overly polite, but the pity in her eyes was clear. “Here you are,” she said, putting the tray down. America grinned up at her. “Thanks, ma’am!” Her own grin was fixed on her face. Russia couldn’t tell, but he thought he saw her eye twitch. “No problem, sir. I hope you two enjoy your… meal.” She walked off, leaving the pair alone with their sandwiches.
“Welp, no use in waiting,” America said as he reached for the bigger sandwich. Russia only stared at his. “I would say there is.” America got to work unwrapping his sandwich, which supposedly consisted of half a pound of beef and cheese. Russia told him he shouldn’t order that because it looked like it would stop every organ in his body and incapacitate him.
The American brushed it off, saying, “I’ve eaten worse.” He may have, but that thing seriously looked like a threat. When he fully unwrapped it, he immediately slammed it back down. For some reason the meat looked grayish, and the cheese dripped over it like sewage. Worst of all, the bun on top was off-center… it looked worse than what was presented on the menu.
“Oh boy,” he groaned. Russia frowned at the sight in front of him. “We do not have to do this. There is still time for us to leave.” America shook his head and steeled himself. “No, I can’t back out now… plus, it’s like I said. I’ve had worse.” With a grimace, he took the sandwich in his hands.
He led it towards his mouth very slowly, not blinking until it was in front of his lips. He gulped, and opened his mouth. Might as well rip the bandaid off. He quickly chomped an adequate amount off, and put the sandwich down. He chewed quickly with his eyes shut, praying that he would make it out of the establishment alive. He swallowed, and at first everything seemed fine. The sandwich tasted like a bunch of meat with a little bit of cheese and wheat mixed in, so not terrible.
“That wasn’t so bad—!” He began to speak, before his chest clenched and he hunched over the table, grabbing the side with one hand and gripping his chest with the other. Russia gasped and jumped to his feet. “Alfred!” He rushed over to check on his friend. “A—are you okay?!”
America coughed, face screwed up in immense discomfort. “Dude, I…” his entire being shook. He felt as if his body was shutting down, like a computer. His arteries felt like they had been blocked, and his veins were popping out literally everywhere. So no, he was absolutely not okay.
As he continued to catch his breath, America felt there was something he must do, at least while Russia was still by his side. “Ivan,” he rasped. The Russian nodded. “Yes?”
“I gotta… I gotta tell you something, dude.” He coughed again, and clutched his chest even tighter. Russia grabbed onto his arm. “W—what is it?” Using all the strength that he had left, America lifted the hand gripping the table and put it on Russia’s shoulder. He gazed into Russia’s violet eyes, which trembled with fear. “I… I love you, man,” he wheezed.
Russia nodded frantically, words tumbling out as he spoke. “Yes, yes, I know, I love you too, we are very good friends, but we should be finding a hospital now, да?” America would’ve chuckled if he wasn’t in excruciating pain. “No dude, like… I’m in love with you. Romantically,” he elaborated, glasses sliding down his sweating face.
Russia’s brows furrowed, then shot up in surprise. He barely had time to process the confession before America’s coughing returned, much, much worse. “Alfred!” Russia yelped. He yanked on his friend’s shoulders, trying to get him out of the seat. “We have to go to the hospital!” Despite Russia’s best attempts, the man just would not budge.
After his hacking fit somewhat subsided, America looked up with watery eyes. “I—I’ll be fine,” he managed to say. “I’m just… I’m glad you’re here.”
“Alfred…” Russia looked at him sympathetically. He turned his head to his sandwich, then to America, then back at his sandwich, before deciding something. His face suddenly flared with determination, and he snatched up his food before ripping the wrapping apart. America’s eyes twitched violently. “D—dude, stop!” He weakly latched onto Russia’s lengthy scarf. “You don’t have to do this… you can still back out…”
Russia sent him a small smile. “It is like you said. We both have to do this.”
“I changed my mind! Don’t do this to yourself—!” He choked. Russia flinched, then shook his head. He glared at his sandwich, meat also somewhat gray. He gave one last look to America. “I’m sorry, Alfred.”
Then he took a bite. He chewed, barely tasting the food he was consuming, then swallowed, dread bubbling in his stomach. He could’ve left it alone. He could’ve left and saved himself, but the confession he received made him stay. It made him stay and suffer with his friend—no, he figured they would be more than that.
The effects seemed to kick in instantly, and Russia leaned on the table, body shaking like a leaf. He collapsed to his knees, holding both hands over his chest. “Ivan!” America jolted, straightening his spine. Unfortunately, the sudden movement caused him even more pain, and he fell sideways, right out of his seat. He ended up in front of Russia, who was heaving desperately.
His vision was becoming blurred and his breathing was wildly staggered. Something grabbed onto his hand and clung onto it, as if it was the only thing keeping someone alive. It was hard to tell, but he was sure the figure twitching in front of him was America. The country was moving closer, cowlick bobbing lightly as he scooted over.
The other hand softly cupped Russia’s cheek. For a few moments neither of them spoke, the only sounds coming from the other customers’ chatter, staff working in the kitchen, and Rod Wave blaring from someone’s phone speakers. Eventually, America spoke. “This wasn’t exactly how I planned my confession would go…”
“Would it have been more extravagant?”
“Yeah, actually. I was gonna have an outdoor party, ‘cept it would’ve just been you and me, so like a two-person party, and I would’ve had all your favorite stuff there, like a bunch of sunflowers and more vodka than you could dream of, and at the end I would’ve had you look up in the sky, and an airplane would come by that’d spell out ‘will you go out with me’ or somethin’ like that, and I would’ve said, ‘I love you so much, I think you’re awesome, date me’ or somethin’, and you’d hopefully say yes.” Somehow, he kept his hand on Russia’s cheek the entire time, using the other to gesticulate.
Russia stared at him after the long-winded explanation, then smiled. “I will say yes now.” America blinked. “You will?” Leaning closer, the Russian nodded. “Да.”
They sat there for a few more moments before realizing that all hurt and discomfort was gone. “Huh,” America breathed partly in relief, and partly because of how close the proximity was between him and his crush. They were so close that the tips of their noses touched, and each time one exhaled, the other felt it. His hand dropped to his side.
“Are you waiting for something?” Russia whispered.
“No, I…” he licked his lips. “I dunno.”
Russia shrugged. “I am tired of waiting.” He didn’t wait for a response as he wrapped his arms around the blonde’s shoulders and pulled him closer, kissing him. America’s eyes widened, before closing while he kissed him back. On the floor, in the middle of an Arby’s.
After pulling away, the two took some time to breathe. “So,” America began. “Should we go? We’re probably not finishing that.” He gestured to the food on the table. Russia beamed as he stood up. “I guess we should.” His hand was outstretched, and America grasped it firmly. “Alright, let’s go.”
The couple left, not bothering to collect their leftovers and throw them away. Just as they walked out, someone else walked in. Someone familiar. America turned his head. “Was that…?”
“I think it was…”
The man walked in, foreign and outdated change in hand. “Hallo,” he greeted. “Could I perhaps get five cats…?”