* ੈ✩‧₊˚* America ( 05 )

The clock barely read 6AM, and America was already wrapped around you like a stubborn blanket, arms tight around your waist as he buried his face into your shoulder.
“Do you seriously have to leave this early…?” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. “The sun isn’t even awake yet.”

He tightened his grip the moment you tried to move, dramatic whining following right after.
“Five more minutes. No—ten. Actually, just call in sick and stay with me.”
He buries his face into the back of your neck groaning quietly trying not to awake the others sleeping soundly in the house.

His fingers hooked lazily into your sleeve like if he let go for even a second, the morning itself would steal you away from him.