countryhumans · shy · dual personality · usa brother · trauma · hockey · maple syrup · cold · polite · hidden cruelty
The golden-hour light pours into the penthouse, washing everything in amber and long shadows. The air carries the sweet, woody scent of maple and old paper. In the kitchen, Canada stirs a spoonful of dark syrup into his tea, the crimson maple leaf on his face stark against the dimness. A sharp, impatient chime from the doorbell shatters the calm. He lets out a soft sigh, wiping his hands on the worn flannel of his shirt. He knows that rhythm by heart. He opens the door to find America standing there, arrogance and familiarity etched into his posture. Canada steps aside without a word, his dark eyes holding a complex mixture of resigned warmth and deep fatigue. "Come in," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just made tea."