Choices

A Day in New York

The weather seemed to be really moody lately. Either it was warm and sunny, or cold and extremely windy.

When America woke up, the sun was peaking through the window. The blanket was only covering half of his body, leaving him shivering. Holding his arms closely around himself he got up, following the same routine he followed every morning.

When he had gathered his things for the day he found he was early by about half an hour. He wandered his house for a bit until he came to his office. He found himself pulling open the bottom drawer before it slid shut once more.

I can't do this for much longer. How much more could he handle before he snapped?

He placed the handgun on top of the desk. Could he do it? Should he do it? No one would miss him. He couldn't imagine anyone really missing him. Maybe he would finally end it.

A sudden ringing interrupted his thoughts. He pulled the device from his pocket and stared at the screen for a moment before answering.

"Hello?"

"America. I was just calling to make sure you're okay."

America took a deep breath. "I'm fine, England. Is that all?"

"You just seem kind of down lately. I was wondering if you'd like to do something after the meeting today. Canada and I both were, actually."

"I actually have plans with Prussia today. Raincheck?"

"Absolutely."

America couldn't put his finger on it, but it sounded to him like he was disappointed for some reason. Why would England be disappointed? Shouldn't he be glad he doesn't have to spend time with me?

"I'll see you at the meeting then."

"Yeah, see you then." He tucked the phone back into his pocket and gazed over the handgun.

They hated him though. Didn't they? But, then why did they seem so concerned about him?

America's head fell into his hands. Why do these things have to be so damn difficult?

From within the small drawer in the desk he took a small blade into his hands. He pressed the skin on his hand. Many red slashes had already found a place there many days ago. America watched new lines appear on his skin. He watched his blood start to dribble down his thumb. The pain was refreshing. The only thing that seemed to be able to set his mind straight. He felt the blade trail over his hand several times before he stood from his seat and made his way to the bathroom.

The razor blade was put on the edge of the sink while America took out a first-aid kit from the closet. From inside, he pulled out a roll of gauze. He took a small hand towel to wipe the blood away before he wrapped his hand with the bandages.

-

"What happened to your hand?"

America looked down to the bandages that were bound tightly around his hand. "I just cut myself," he told Canada in a whisper. "My hand slipped when I was cutting something for dinner last night. I'm alright."

Canada gave him a curious glance before turning back to the meeting.

America tried to pay attention to the meeting, but like most times there was more bickering than actual talk. When the meeting was adjourned, America packed up his bag and headed out the door. He made his way out of the building and waited.

"America!"

He turned around to see Prussia running towards him, skipping steps as he descended the stairs.

America couldn't help the smile that came over him. "Hey, Prussia."

Prussia stopped in front of America with a wide smile. "You want to get lunch?"

"Sure," America said uncertainly. "There's a pizza place down the street. You want to go there?"

"Sure!"

They took America's car to drive into the city. Just down the street from where they parked was the pizzeria. The smell was overwhelming. Fresh scents filled the restaurant. Prussia ordered a slice of pizza and turned to America who only shook his head saying he wasn't hungry. America tried to pay for the food, though Prussia didn't let him.

They wandered about New York for a bit. Took a walk through a park, passed by some shops. Of course, they made it to the Empire State Building. They took an elevator to the top.

Stepping out, America could feel the familiar wind blow past him. He lead Prussia to the edge where they had a clear view of the entire city.

"It's an amazing view," Prussia marveled.

"It is, isn't it?"

Prussia spared a glance towards America. The sunlight reflecting off his glasses. He seemed so faraway in the moment as he looked into the distance.

"America, is there something wrong?"

He turned to look at Prussia, sparing a slightly curious stare. "What do you mean?"

"You seem distant lately. You've missed several meeting in the last few months and you're very quiet. Very un-like the America that I know. Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine," he said dismissively. His bandaged hand came up to brush his bangs out of his eyes.

Prussia looked back to the skyline. "What happened to your hand?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw America hurriedly stuff his hand into his pocket. "Nothing. I just got a cut yesterday while I was making myself dinner."

"America. Don't think you're the only one who's suffered and gone through difficult times. I can't pretend to know exactly what you're going through, but please don't lie to me."

"Sorry," was the only thing America could think to say.

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

What? America watched as Prussia turned to him. "What are you saying?"

"You're going through tough times. If you ever need to talk to someone, ever need to just talk, I'm here. Just call me."

America bit his lip. He held his eyes wide to quell the tears he felt gather there. No one had ever offered that to him. To jut listen.

"You okay?"

America nodded. "Thank you, Prussia."