This is sort of a depressing chapter. So... Be warned.
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"Alfie, what're you feeling for lunch? I'm in the mood to make a mean Mac & Cheese." Shelby said as she walked out into the living room. America's unicorn, which Shelby named Misty, trotted pass silently, going and sitting on the loveseat. The brunette was tempted to go and pet the creature, but she tried to avoid touching her around Alfred; he didn't know she could see her yet.

Alfred laid across the couch, his eyes trained on his phone as he scrolled through one of his several social media apps. He shrugged. "Nah, dude, I'm not too hungry right now."

Shelby blinked. "What?"

"I said I'm not hungry. Jeez, do you people think I'm some sort of bottomless pit?" America snapped, not taking his dulled eyes off the screen.

Shelby went to open her mouth and retort with an equal amount of attitude, but she paused, drawing herself back slightly. Alfred's not the grumpy one in this relationship, she was. Something must be wrong with him, he would never snap like that if there wasn't.

She took a moment to examine him. Besides the frown tugging at the edge of her lips, everything seemed perfectly normal. Then, she notices a small white rectangle sitting on his chest, the back of a printed out picture. She pursed her lips, knowing she needed to investigate.

"Well, could you at least get the pot off the top of the cupboard. I don't really like standing on chairs." She requested with a quiet voice, trying to keep it free of any tones that might irritate Alfred.

He snorted slightly. "You and your fear of heights." He muttered so she could just barely hear him, before pushing himself up and stuffing his phone in his pocket. Shelby pretended that she didn't notice the picture flutter freely to the floor, but as soon as Alfred was in the kitchen, she rushed forward and snatched up the picture.

The first thing she saw in the picture was America's cheeky grin, his arm extended out as far as possible while his other arm was wrapped around Shelby, holding her close to his body, her face contorted in a sort of embarrassed discomfort. She snickered slightly, subconsciously placing her thumb on the part of the picture where the two touched, and moved on to the rest of the scene. Next to Shelby was Japan, his arms behind his back, donning a much calmer smile than his American counterpart, but a smile nonetheless. On the other side of Alfred, Canada flashed a more timid smile, a slight flush on his cheeks and nose as Hope hugged him, almost looking as happy as America, although her smile was far less stretched out and much prettier. Behind the Canadians was a peaceful looking Russia, his eyes closed and his lips curled up gently, and below Matthew, Kumajirou poked his head up in an attempt to be involved in the photo.

"I miss that." America's voice sounded behind her, and Shelby turned to face him. His blue eyes swam with sadness from behind his specs, and his frown deepened. "I miss hanging with them. We were like, the OG squad. Even Russia isn't half bad nowadays, ya know?" Shelby pursed her lips, and America continued. "But... I don't think they like us anymore."

Shelby raised a brow. "What? Don't be ridiculous Alfred, of course they still like us. They have other friends too, dude. Japan hangs with Annalise and France, and Hope and Matthew are a couple, they're their own company. But they still like us."

"But they still hang out with Ivan." Alfred pointed out. "I just don't understand why everyone seems to get sick of me eventually."

"Alfred, we still hang out with them." Shelby attempted to smile. "We were just with Hope and Canada the other day! Remember McDick's? I know you do, that's not something you just forget."

"It's not just them, it's- it's the whole damn world!" America exclaimed. "When's the last time you hung out with Felix?"

Shelby blinked, her face falling. "Not since his last Euro tournament game." She admitted.

"Dreamz and Sam- when's the last time you've seen them, BESIDES the other day, when you guys were all body-swapped and crud?"

"Well, I saw them about a week ago when we were driving in Fernando." She answered optimistically. "Alfred, I don't see what your point is here."

"They hate us. All of them. Everyone hates Americans." Alfred muttered.

"That's not true!" Shelby countered.

"Yeah? When's the last time you heard Dreamz, Sammi, or the Canadian girls say one nice thing about the United States. One. Name one." He challenged, his brows furrowing.

Shelby opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Nothing could come to mind. "I can't think of one off the top of my head, nimrod, it's not the type of thing I think about!"

"Exactly, because they don't like it! They don't like the U.S.! They don't like us because just we're American!" Alfred yelled, his face turning slightly red.

"Thaovy and Jenna are Americans!" Shelby exclaimed.

"They're different, they're Texan. They want to be their own country, they consider themselves Texan before they consider themselves American." Alfred retorted.

"Don't put words in their mouths, Alfred,  you've never heard them say that." Shelby huffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"I mean, I don't blame them. Everyone hates me. Britain can't sit in the same room with me, Mexico disagrees with everything I say. Russia still thinks I'm too noisy, China still thinks I'm too democratic, no one takes me seriously at world meetings, everyone has something to say about my politics, or the social unrest, or, or," tears began rolling down Alfred's face, and Shelby's expression softened. "Or anything! Anything I do, someone critiques it, finds every little flaw, I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong half the time!"

With that, he hung his head, closing his eyes and sighing. "I just... I want everyone to like me. I want to be everyone's friend. I try to make sure all the other countries are safe and doing well. We send them aid and military assistance... But I'm the most hated country in the world."

Silence fell between the two of them, and Alfred wiped away the moisture on his face with the heel of his head, lifting his glasses slightly as he did so. After a few moments crawled by, he felt something wrap around his chest, and he looked down to see Shelby had attached herself to him, her head nuzzled under his neck.

"I don't hate you." She whispered. "I-I love you. And I know you're stressed right now, with all these shootings, and the election coming up, and police and racial issues, but I don't think the girls or the majority of the countries actually hate you. You may irritate them, but only, like, a handful actually don't like you. And, and even if they did hate us, it doesn't matter. Because I'll always love you, I'll always love America." Shelby rambled into his shirt, trying to catch her breath but failing to do so as sobs began to rake her shoulders.

Alfred sighed, wrapping his arms around her, holding her comfortingly. "You said us."

"What?" She breathed.

"You said, 'even if they did hate us'. So, you do feel like that too?" He asked in an unusually soft tone for the louder country.

She sniffed, "Of course I feel like that sometimes. I just ignore it."

He sighed, placing a kiss on the top of her head, "Us Americans will always stick together, right?" He mumbled through her locks.

"Right." She whispered back. "Us Americans."