A.N. These are a set of drabbles I couldn't get my mind off and had to write. I hope you'll like them. :) Sorry for any grammatical errors.
Beware the wrath of a patient adversary.
John C. Calhoun
All he knows is that it rises from somewhere in the pit of his stomach. It burns him, he feels every cell in his body being converted into fire by it and then it slowly moves up, further into his body, it expands into his system, finds his heart, makes it beat faster, makes him want to scream with pain, his fingers move of their own accord, wanting to hurt and damage, it goes up into his throat, chocking him and then…
It's still there, though, crawling under his skin. It never goes away. It growls, waiting for the right opportunity to pounce but that opportunity never comes. So, it starts scraping him impatiently, again and again, drawing blood, biting him, hurting him from the inside because he doesn't let it out.
"Canada? He would never…"
He tightens his fists instead and smiles, stretches his lips wide when someone mistakes him for his brother, when they ask for his name again, when he is told he is not strong as his brother, when he hadn't even needed to fight for his independence, that is how much he is worth, when his brother claims he is part of the United States, and forgets he exists, when he laughs with his mouth full and it's disgusting how obnoxious he is and he wants to hurt him, spit at him, scream at him, strangle him and sometimes he wishes that what remains of America is just a puddle of blood on the floor. Red as his flag. Red as a battlefield. Red as the fury howling inside of him.
"Who are you again?"
He is patient. He doesn't hurt anyone. He would never. He is tolerant of others. He loves his brother. He doesn't care if they don't ask for his opinion. He is the guy that smiles and says:
"It doesn't matter if you forgot…"
He is the one that avoids confrontation. He is the one that wants to stand on the other end of the argument.