Marked

Stop Remembering

America wheezed like a tea kettle a little too loudly but thankfully the teacher didn't notice it somehow, the Filipino frowned deeply but either way he playfully squinted his eyes at the western country, wanting nothing more than to ignore him.

Philip went back to his sketchpad, yellow irises glazing on the thick paper.
He bit his lip, putting down his pen between the pages and closing the pad gently.

As if the gesture provoked the bell ringing, he can hear classmates around him gasping or sighing in silent relief that Mrs. India's class has come to an end. Not gonna lie, he took out a deep breath too.

"What's our next class again?" America questioned, trying to remember what lesson it is. Philip put aside his sketchpad onto his satchel "Switzerland." that simple name can make a man break.

Make a man think about his life choices and why he was alive in the first place.

And that man is America himself, an expression of pure terror and regret crosses his face "Oh no." America murmured in a whisper that has gone to the wind, burying his face onto his hands as if grieving on what he did wrong...

"Oh noooooo...." his words became longer in Octaves, muffled under his palm.
"Aren't you Switzerland's favorite student? why are you acting as somebody died?"

"Somebody did." America finally looked up, grimacing in pain "soon." his mouth tightened into a scowl as if readying his physical and mental health for this. Philip pities him, oh well, no time for waiting for this shit out.

"We either die like men or wait like pussies." Philip pats him with a grin "Let's head-on." America's gaze puzzled with reluctance but he breathes in closing his eyes and exhaling away from the stress that still lingers.

He stood up with Philip, his slumping structure acts like a child who doesn't want to go to school. Philip mentally chuckled at the display.

This is going to be a tiring hour for the rest of them.

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"COME ON! I WANNA SEE THE HEAT AND THE SWEAT!"

The gym teacher hollered at the panting students. wearing a comfortable black long sleeve jacket with a school badge on his right chest and soft cotton grey gym pants as well.

The students wheeze out a tiring exhale as they jog around the gym in a somewhat broken line, but a line nonetheless. Phil's legs strained at the pressure, ignoring his screaming mind to seat down and rest.

"NO STOPPING, LET YOUR MUSCLES STRAIN!"

Phil just wants to die. But at least he's not like America who is in front of the line, leading his classmates where to go, and worst of all, he can't show any tiredness but only an energetic smile full of fake determination of a star student and a role model.

It's been like, 5 laps now? The Filipino can feel his white T-shirt dampening from the sweat while it's sticking on his red skin. Not pleasant at all.

But a saving grace pulled them out of their misery.

A blow of a whistle made the torture stop, and all of his classmates stopped abruptly with a sharp gasp of air, taking a semblance of ease in their muscles. Philip used both of his knees to leaned his palms on. grasping his jogging pants in exhaustion wanting the pressure of his airless lungs to heal from this hell.

"T...this is the reason why life is shit." He heard Laos behind him. Muttering a line of curse words in his language as if it's a new speech in of itself.