Countryhumans Oneshots :D

America x ??? (Pt. 1)

[A/N: Here goes! (Requested by me because I figured you guys would want a sample of my writing)]

~America's POV~

I've been crying for over half an hour. My eyelids are gritty and puffy, cheeks sticky with tears. At first, all I could do was lay on my floor, sobbing uncontrollably. It took too much effort even breathe as I curled into a fetal position. Then I collected myself enough to crawl into bed, hugging a huge pillow to my chest.

Today was too much, the straw that broke the camel's back. Things have already been crappy this year, but the summer's been disgusting. I was just trying to get some work wrapped up in the park when Britain just had to stop by and talk to me. He, apparently, was taking a stroll with some other European countries when he saw me "all by my lonesome".

I bite a corner of the pillow and let out a pained wail. It doesn't help that I haven't gone over my crush on him. I keep telling myself I have, but every decade or so, my resolve falters and I have to push my feelings down. Because unrequited love is terrible and self-deprecating, especially since Britain seems to alternately hate my guts or mock me relentlessly.

Hugging the pillow even closer, I sniffle. I was naïve enough to think that he just wanted to stop by and be polite. That today was one of the better days. No. Instead, he stops to give me a harsh scolding, cooly mocking my fourth of July celebrations, my handling of the Iran deal, and so on and so forth. He went on in such a condescending manner I wanted to melt into the bench. Germany avoided eye contact, and France had the decency to look uncomfortable, but neither said anything. Not to intervene, and not to comfort me after Britain stalked off, self-satisfied. Instead, they both hurried after him, barely sparing me a second glance.

The whole time I sat there, not moving a muscle, screaming internally in protest. Why can he understand that I don't call the shots? That maybe I dislike this as much as him? That I'm being torn apart from the inside out and he's this big red cherry on top of all my pain? It's so unfair and stupid and immature. Anger was the only thing that held me together, kept me from breaking down. Until I got home.

I let out another keening cry. This is so stupid. He's stupid. I'm stupid. Everything is so, so stupid. I shudder and curl up around the pillow. Life is so pointless now. All we do is churn out pollution, threaten everyone with a nuclear world war, and snipe at each other with petty comments. I can stand it. We're so immature and useless, perpetually arguing while the future grows even more bleak. Everything's melting and warming and dying and creating monster storms and falling apart before our eyes. And ... and I don't want to go through that.

Of course, I think as my sobbing morphs into streams of tears with the occasional sniffle, I'm not ballsy enough to do anything. If only spontaneous combustion was a thing ... And if only I didn't have the third-largest population in the world.

With those two problems solved, I could - the sound of my doorbell echoing loudly through the halls cuts off my thoughts. I shrink into a ball, hoping whoever it is will get impatient and leave. It might be Britain, having suddenly remembered one more important point to berate me about. Or it could be France, coming to apologise with a bouquet of orchids in hand. Both are the last things I need right now.

A loud set of knocks follows my unresponsive silence.

"Go away!" I shout weakly, voice raw, "I'm fine, just leave me be!"

Of course, I muse with a saccharine smile to myself, that's a lie and you know it. The tears have stopped, leaving me with sticky, flushed cheeks and a damp pillow. My hiccups are gone as well. The only struggle is breathing through my stuffy nose, and occasionally I have to breathe through my mouth, gasping softly like a suffocating fish.

Suddenly, the doorbell is pressed not once, not twice, but three times in rapid succession. The action successfully transforms the rest of my self-loathing and despair into irritation. Taking a bracing breath, I slowly slip off the side of my bed and stand unsteadily. The world goes black for a solid five seconds and my brain feels stuffed full of unseparated cotton, but I catch my breath and stop swaying after a few seconds of standing still.

Ignoring my pending headache, I stumble into the restroom and flick on the lights. I flinch and almost fall backwards in response, but I latch on to the sink just in time and wait for my eyes to adjust. God I look like death, I note, unsurprised. My eyes are puffy, the bags under them emphasising my recent sleepless nights, and you can see the paths carved by my tears. All the better to scare people off, I muse wryly, trying to muster as much willpower as possible before answering the door.

The knocking becomes incessant as I blow my nose, then splash water on my face and towel off. Running my hands through my hair in an attempt to organise it, I make my way to the foyer.

[A/N: First fill and there's already an attempt at a cliffhanger *shakes head in disappointment*. Honestly, I just thought the text was too long so I split it up, but now it looks too short and I look stupid lol.]