°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ America ( 15 )

America had been weird all day. No barging into your room without knocking, no dramatic complaints from the living room, no random attempts to drag you into watching some terrible action movie with him. Every time you entered a room, he’d suddenly go quiet and walk right past you with an irritated look on his face. By evening, the silence in the house had become unbearable. You finally found him in the kitchen leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, aggressively pretending to scroll through his phone. The second you stepped closer, he let out a sharp sigh. “Oh, now you wanna talk to me?” he muttered, refusing to look at you. The irritation in his voice sounded painfully fake — like he was trying to imitate someone being angry without actually knowing how. “Whatever. It’s not like I care or anything.” From the doorway, China quietly watched with the most entertained expression imaginable, clearly waiting to see if America could keep up the act.