American Symphony

I'll Be Your Hero

(1042 words)

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The nations of the world were in Spain for one of their yearly global meetings, the stars shining brightly in the evening sky as a cool breeze blew through America's wheat-colored hair. He smiled at the smell of earth and food in the air, Antonio's land feeling more down to Earth than most other nations. It really helped him to feel at home.

America leaned back in the chair he sat on, his feet kicked up on the metal railing surrounding the small deck that was attached to his hotel room. A worn, honey-brown acoustic guitar rested in his lap, the nation's fingers strumming delicately as he tuned the object.

He smiled down at it, glancing up at the stars and taking in the night. It had been a stressful week for them, the nations covering heavy topics such as refugees, drug cartels, and nuclear implications.

Alfred shook the rather depressing topics from his mind, taking a deep breath into his lungs and smiling wider as a cool breeze hit his face. Spain was warm, but it wasn't any warmer than his southern states, so the nation felt at home here, unlike a nation like Russia or Greenland, who were probably hiding away in their hotel rooms with the A/C cranked up as far as it would go.

Did Spanish hotels have A/C? He knew a lot of English ones didn't but did that correlate with Spain as well?

America shrugged to himself, settling further into his chair as he plucked out a tune into the encroaching night. He knew that there were nations around him and that there was a possibility they would hear him, but he didn't really care at the moment.

The blonde sifted through various songs he had in his head, smirking at the thought of hearing many groans were he to start playing an acoustic version of 'American Idiot', but decided against it. 

As much as he enjoyed pressing the buttons of his colleagues, even he was tired from the grueling hours of shouting and arguing that meetings always consisted of.

Alfred knew that the nations needed a break, but it was something that none would ever admit to. Nations had too much pride, he had always thought, even if he himself had too much pride sometimes to ask for help.

The American turned his attention back to his instrument, still plucking absently at it. He took in a deep breath and let it out, smiling when a song came to mind. He shifted his shoulders and adjusted himself in his seat, watching a pair of doves decide that the plants he had on his balcony would be a good place to rest.

He looked at them and started strumming, grinning at the animals as he started to sing softly. His voice was warm and smooth and had a warm, loving touch to it as he strummed the instrument.

"I'm no superman—

I can't take your hand

And fly you anywhere

You want to go, yeah~

He smiled to himself, his eyes shut as he sang softly.

I can't read your mind

Like a billboard sign

And tell you everything

You want to hear, but..."

His voice carried through the air, ringing in the ears of passersby and various nations that had their windows and balcony doors open.

"I'll be your herooo~"

America smirked to himself at the line, continuing to sing, unaware of the nations coming out of their rooms to listen to the American play.

"Cause I, I can be everything you need

If you're the one for me

Like gravity—

I'll be unstoppable...

I, yeah, I believe in destiny

I may be an ordinary guy with heart and soouuul...

But if you're the one for me

Then I'll be your herooo..."

He didn't see the mesmerized looks, or the surprised eyes cast his way, nor did he see the ones who always gave him shit looking somewhat confsued at their own thoughts as he sang the lyrics into the evening air.

"So incredible—

Some kind of miracle—

And when it's meant to be

I'll become a hero-o~

So I'll wait, wait, wait, wait for yooouuuu...."

The American poured his should into the song, everything fading from his mind but his lyrics and the guitar in his lap.

"Yeah, I'll be your heroooo..."

America's voice cracked with emotion, but he continued singing anyways.

"Cause I, I can be everything you need,

If you're the one for me

Like gravity

I'll be unstoppable...

I, yeah, I believe in destiny

I may be an ordinary guy with heart and soouuul...

But if you're the one for me

Then I'll be your hero..."

Alfred shut his eyes, tears pricking in the corners of them. He shook them away, his iconic million-watt smile lighting up his face in contrast to the sadness that radiated from his eyes.

"I'll be your hero...."

He finished strumming, smiling to himself as the sounds echoed into the night. Alfred saw the pair of birds off, who had surprisingly not moved since he started playing, and closed his eyes and let himself relax, only to hear clapping coming from below him.

America furrowed his brow and sat up, looking over the railing to find Russia standing on the balcony below him, glancing up and clapping quietly.

The nation looked around but found no one else outside, though he was unaware of them watching him through their windows.

"You are talented, comrade," Russia told him from below, an earnest look in his violet eyes.

The American smirked, nodding to the nation below him. "Thanks, commie," he said quietly.

Russia smiled softly up at him. "I wish you would share your gift more often. I miss our 'jam sessions' as you put it, from the Cold War." he said with a shake of his head.

America chuckled, leaning away from the bars of his balcony. "Maybe someday, Ivan," he said with a smile, shaking his own head at the thought. 

He plucked absently at the guitar, before standing up and bending over the bars once more. "Good night, Russia." he said, holding the guitar by the neck and walking inside without another word.

"Good night, Amerika." Russia replied.