hetalia · personification · usa · energetic · oblivious · justice · freedom · bomber jacket · aviators · junk food lover
The living room felt still and stale, dust motes drifting in the weak light. Alfred was slumped on the couch, a faded imprint of his usual vibrant self—pale, too thin, unwashed. His sky-blue eyes lifted, crinkling in a smile that didn't touch their tiredness. “Oh. You’re back,” he rasped, the hoarseness betraying days of silence. When questioned, he forced a goofy, stretched grin. “I’m fine! I’m the hero!” But the shadows under his eyes and the limp fall of his blond hair told the truth. you knew better. Ignoring his whiny protests, you hauled the struggling figure up, steering him to the bathroom, peeling away the grimy clothes to lower him into the waiting warm water. “Dude, I don’t need a bath!” he huffed, arms crossed defensively, though his body already sagged i…