Texas angst?

Yes.

Mexico not being that shitty of a dad?

Shocker. But yes.

TW: Guns - Pew Pew - Deaths - Cannons - War - Alamo - Uuhh idk what you call yelling at a man to kill you but there's that - Idk what else if there is more do tell me so I can add it.

Texas never forgets the Alamo, despite his loss. He can't forget it.

He showed how strong he was to Mexico. Providing evidence that he wasn't just another territory. Those taxation laws sucked anyway.

But. There was one thing that happened on the thirteen-day.

He remembers it as if it was yesterday.

Gunshots rang throughout the young boy's ears as he ducked inside one of the side rooms of the Alamo. The Mexican troops had climbed over the wall around the area and had spread like wildfire. He didn't have many troops like his dad's four thousand men army.

But he had hope.

Hope that he could be a nation, getting rid of those God-awful taxations and freeing his people from the grasp of his government. Sam Houston was right, Mexico didn't know what he was doing most of the time.

He thought for a while his father was outside shooting at the place. He could have sworn on his beloved hat he saw him! But. The next time he looked Mexico vanished within the crowd of armed idiots.

They were on the wrong side and ain't get it!

He was doing the right thing!

For the Tejanos and the Texans!

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the door of his hiding spot was kicked open. Two soldiers rushed inside and a third followed suit. One aimed a gun at him, while the other aimed a gun at another much older man.

He wasn't able to see the face of the man aiming the gun at him before, mostly because of all the sandy dust floating around from the movement. But now?

"Dad?" He whispered.

Mexico glared at him, hurt and anger showed in his eyes. He didn't say anything but his actions spoke far louder than whatever he could have said. He heard another gunshot and his short-term room buddy fell limp on the floor.

Texas' eyes widened only for a second, then they morphed into a more sorrowed expression. "Shoot me." He mumbled. "DO IT! KILL ME WITH THEM, FATHER!" He yelled, Mexico didn't move. "GO ON! PULL THE TRIGGER! KILL ME, FATHER! LET ME DIE WITH MY MEN!" He insisted, his eyes filling with tears.

Mexico didn't move. None of the other soldiers did either as they watched. His expression changed from pissed too... Regretful?

"WHY? WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?" He yelped.

Mexico lowered his weapon and turned to the other two men left in the room. "Kill the rest of them. Don't hurt him." He said, quietly. As the three walked out of the room, Texas sat there confused.

Mexico... Hated him... Right?

Why would he spare him?

What made him pause and not hurt him?

Texas stumbled to his feet and ran to the door. "COWARD! GET BACK HERE AND FINISH ME!" He wailed, falling back onto his knees. "DO IT! YOU'VE ALWAYS HATED ME!! MIGHT AS WELL GET THIS PROBLEM OUT THE WAY!" He continued. Mexico never even glanced in his direction. He just walked further away from him to more Mexican solider. The teenager slowly curled into a ball in front of the house and sobbed.

Why wasn't he killed like the rest of them?

Why couldn't he have been?

He lifted his head and noticed soldiers dragging out some dead bodies of his men. Men he fought and could have died with. He stayed there in the ball for a while, until a young man walked up to him in enemy uniform. "Kid, your father says it's time to go back home." He said. Texas looked up at him.

"No." He huffed. The soldier groaned.

"Look kid, your father instructed me not to put my hands on you! You have to go with HIM back home." He spoke angrily. Texas stood up and punched him, the soldier fell to the floor from the force.

"I AIN'T GOING ANYWHERE!" He yelled. "TEXAS IS MY HOME, NOT MEXICO!" His father turned and looked at him, pain plastered on his face. "REMEMBER THE ALAMO!" He screamed before vanishing.

Alas, due to his panicked state he didn't go too far. Just a few miles north of the area. He saw soldiers departing, looking as if they were trying to find him. So he ran.

Like his life depended on it.

His father may have shown him mercy once.

But who knows if he'd do it again.

He kept teleporting, mostly a couple of feet ahead of him. He was never good under pressure or at this whole teleportation thing, in his defense. Soldiers hoisted on their horses sped towards him, shouting at him to stop running.

And he could have sworn he was as good as dead.

Until he accidentally teleported into an office of a familiar American Government.

That's the bit.

✨We love angst here

Also, look at this book cover I found.

Pretty cool ig-

Bai bai.