Depressed! America x Reader

Depressed! America x Reader

Castle of Glass

You walked in to your boyfriend’s apartment quietly. It was a bit early; you didn’t want to wake him. But you brought him breakfast. His favorite coffee and donuts. As you set them down on the kitchen counter, you noticed something. A calendar sitting on the counter. Days up until September 11th were crossed out in black ink. The 11th was circled in red marker. “Fuck…”

You quickly glance up at the clock of the wall. 8:46 AM.

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He was right where you thought he’d be. Alfred was a few blocks down the street. You watched him trace his fingers along the edge of the monument where the North Tower of the World Trade Center once stood. He watched the water fall out of the sides of the monument inwards into the pool below. He was not the only one there at the monument. Other had come to remember a loved one they had lost.

This day he dreaded ever year for the past 10 years. By now his head ache had already set in. Body aches, dizziness, and depression would follow as the day went on. You remembered him telling you that he still had pain in his scars from this tragic day.

You sighed deeply before striding to him. “Al? Are you ok?” He nodded slightly, saying nothing more than, “I’m fine.” His voice was quiet and very heavyhearted. He seemed like he was in a trance. His expression was stone cold and never changed the entire time you were standing with him. He never looked in your direction; he hardly acknowledged your existence.

His clear blue eyes wandered over the names etched into the fine granite. 2,996 names were carved into the monument and he could recite every last one of them from memory.
Biting your lip wrap your arms around his waist. This year was especially bad. “I know your upset Al…” “I’m fine (Y/N)…” He pushed his glassed farther up his nose and ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Headache?” “Yeah…” He was far too quiet for your liking. You want your old Alfred back.

“Come on babe, at least say something.” You look up at him, your heart starting to crack. The way his shirt was cut at the neckline you could just barely see the burn scar on his collar bone. That was 1 of 4 total.  Alfred sighed, “I didn’t think you’d be up this early. The meeting isn’t for another 2 hours.”

“They cancelled it. They knew better than to schedule a meeting on this day. They’re all worried about you. Especially Arthur and Mattie.” You said. “Every year it’s been getting worse and worse. Last year you could hardly function.” He turned and faced you. Clear blue eyes filled with hurt. “Does it ever stop?” He said. You blinked a few times, a bit puzzled. “Does what stop?”  

“The pain. The headaches. The Anxiety. The fucking depression. Does it ever just stop?”  His voice cracked and rose in volume.

“No Al, it doesn’t. It never will and it never should.”

“Why? This day was one of the worst in history. 2,996 fucking innocent people were killed in cold blood. I remember every last one of their names, I remember how confused and frantic everyone was trying to understand why. I can still hear them screaming and you’re saying this never stops?”

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. His jaw tightened.

“Alfred, it’d be more painful if it all stopped.” You slid your hands up to his shoulders. “Because at that point people stop caring. This day would be nothing more than a faint memory. Everything you feel, millions of others are feeling too. Yet they’re coping with the pain. They don’t let it drag them down.”

His mind refused to match his voice as he tried to respond to you, no words would come out. “It’s ok to hurt Al. It’s ok to feel angry. It’s ok to cry. It only makes you human.”

You flashed a weak smile as you wipe his tears awake. “You’re not alone. Arthur still copes with the London bombing in 2005. Ludwig still hurts from World War 2. Kiku still carries the pain from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. All of them deal with the pain one day at a time.

Alfred took your hand in his and squeezed it tightly. He weakly smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You know… I was raised thinking America was built like a castle. Strong, proud, protecting those on the inside. I guess we’re more of a castle of glass that was shattered so easily.”

You stand up on your toes and kiss him on the forehead.

“Not shattered, just cracked. A crack that allowed light to shine through.”