(Nobody POV)
The morning of July the Fourth started more chaotically than usual. First off, there was the hustle and bustle of the servants in the house, all preparing for the party that would happen later that night. Then there was the paparazzi. Every journalist, news show and fanclub in a twenty kilometer radius had shoved themselves into the front lawn of the White Manor. It was America's birthday and the world was not shy about reminding him.
The first thing that greeted America was his phone. Thousands of pings, messages and calls had come in to wish him a happy birthday and thousands of others requesting him to talk shows and such.
"Not gonna happen," thought the Superstar. He shut down the device and sent his butler and guards to deal with the insufferable crowd, leaving him free to have his morning meal in relative peace.
He entered the dining hall where a new intricately carved table stood with a lavish birthday breakfast set upon it. A basket of fresh flowers were placed next to a card that read;
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Bro, we love you and we hope that you never forget that fact. Enjoy your breakfast! We all helped make it.
ps: mom made most of it.
pps: Australia handled the maple syrup. We don't want you getting diabetes on your birthday right? Canada wasn't happy.
A touching gesture made his day that much more enjoyable yet he still felt strangely wearisome for the night to come. He needed to take his mind elsewhere and he did have a place in mind. America was aware that leaving the residence through the front door would be the equivalent to a death wish because of the feisty people so he put his secret childhood tunnel to use. It was the tunnel that aided in his escape to the flourishing woods just beyond the hill on rough days. It would be where he wandered when he needed appeasement.
It had been quite a while since he'd been there. Yes, the grass was taller and more unkempt. Yes, the old treehouse looked a bit more haggard. But most of everything was the same as he had remembered. Chirps and skitters could be heard through the lively yet peaceful thicket and a slight gust helped the blooms that dotted the ragged dirt path dance. The trees were old and statuesque but perhaps the heart of the beauty lay in the center of a small clearing. A small lake where a petite 3 foot tall waterfall set water from the creek above to rest. The giant trees created a canopy out of leaves, only allowing fragments of light in. This absence of sunshine only made the flickering fireflies that hovered in the air seem more beautiful.
America sat on a fallen log by the water's edge and sighed. It was funny how easily people could forget the brilliance mother nature provided in the first place. Sure, city lights and grand castles were fine but a natural masterpiece was even more priceless nowadays.
A leaf drifted down and landed in the palm of the country who then picked it up, examining every little detail as it fluttered helplessly in the wind.
It was a thoughtful and quiet side to the normally reckless and spirited individual. One that rarely ever showed itself to anyone else.
America's mood suddenly changed to something a bit more worrisome. A small mocking smile twisted his lips into a devilish sneer, "You and I are not so different, except that you are weak. And frail. And... pathetic."
A small flame lit upon his fingertip; far enough that it would not destroy the leaf but close enough so that it could just barely graze it. "There. I'll allow you to stare death in the face. How does it feel? Do you believe you're so special now?" he jeered.
Yes, it was peculiar for him to be talking to a leaf, but in his mind, his unsteady and fragmented mind that seemed to be held together by bare threads, he saw his former self. So he was lamenting about his past or something of that sort. The more he stared, the more disdain he felt and the more disdain he felt, the more the fire grew until it sputtered onto the leaf; tearing blackening holes through the delicate green tapestry. The fire was not done yet, for it was hungry for more. A glowing drop landed on the grass and began to eat at it. America didn't care. He sat there staring into space.
"America? Who were you talking to?"
The voice jolted the country out of his trance and he quickly snuffed out the flame underfoot.
"Nobody," he replied just as New Zealand entered the clearing. He muttered something about insanity and placed the small kiwi he held onto the forest floor.
"Well mother needs you for final adjustments for your stuff tonight . You should get back to the house before she gets mad."
New Zealand's weary gaze followed his brother until he left. The smoldering patch of grass was the only sign that America had ever been there.
New Zealand frowned, "He's relapsing again. It's around that time for him to go all pyromaniac on us then, better be careful."
The rest of the day went by rather uneventfully; at least for the birthday boy. Servants ran around with plates and the kitchen was overflowing with people prepping the buffet. Others were decorating, cleaning and polishing everything in sight, transforming the residence into an exquisite party paradise. Of course, the country offered his assistance only to be immediately ushered out.
"It's a surprise, so NO PEEKING!!!"
That's how America found himself lying on his bed, staring at the sky through his glass-domed ceiling, listening to the clock ticking away the seconds that remained before the celebration began...
(America POV)
"SO MANY BUTTONS!!!" I screeched in frustration as I fumbled with the tiny knobs that simply refused to go where they were supposed to. Luckily I had good ol' Canada to help me.
My apparel was simple. A white undershirt with a silver vest and a white tailcoat embellished with gold and blue over it. A silk kerchief fixed with a cyan diamond clasp wrapped around my neck and a waist-length cloak draped over one shoulder was held in place by gold chains and clasps. Despite my mother's objections; I wore my usual combat boots over my white trousers and I also kept the sunglasses of course. Gloves on, hair gelled, I was ready.
The Party began at 7:00 pm sharp. Guests poured in through the entrance, all dressed in formal outfits from all kinds of cultures. I stood at the top of the stairs, admiring the amazing job the decor squad had done and watching the ever growing crowd. Once most of the guests had arrived, my father stepped forward, dressed even fancier than usual. He gave a heartwarming speech, the orchestra began to play, and the party had officially begun. It was tradition for me to greet every guest before they proceeded into the grand ballroom so I made my way down. The night was young and I was pleased with how many people had come.
Small murmurs and whispers began to drift from the back and I turned to look.
Standing in the doorway were two gorgeous countries, Belarus and Ukraine who were wearing the most stunning dresses that I immediately recognized as my mother's brilliant craft. I felt Canada tense up and turn into jello at the same time. What a dork he was, I thought as I gave him an encouraging nudge. He did not move so I led him forward myself. They met us in the middle of the room.
"Hey- hey-hey Belarus. Ukra- raine. Lovely look you tonight- I MEAN YOU LOOK LOVELY TONIGHT- I MEAN-" said my bumbling brother.
Belarus rolled her eyes and laughed, "Why thank you Canada. Awesome look you too."
We both laughed as the two started to glow bright red.
"Sorry we came a bit late," Ukraine swiftly changed topics, "Our helpless case over there didn't know the first thing about wearing a tux."
I suddenly became aware how silent and tense the room became. Only one person I knew could make that happen so quickly and there he was, just as I had expected. What I hadn't expected was his appearance...
(The night before...)
Mother? What are you working on at an hour this late? America asked. France looked up from her work and smiled. It was nearly three in the morning yet she didn't look tired at all. In fact, she looked ecstatic.
"I received a request from a charming young garçon. He is about your age too. Quite talented at drawing, very polite. Look." France nudged a piece of paper towards America.
"You're right mother, this is really good," America marveled.
"He gave quite a donation to me, so I want to do something special for him."
America peered over his mother's shoulders and saw the masterpiece of her masterpieces...
Now he knew who it was for.
AUTHOR'S NOTES AND EXTRA: hoyyyyyyyy. I'm actually kinda on time this week. :)
Here's the small weird ref I drew for America's outfit. I love drawing formal attire, idk why.
Also Jesus Christ, cut Russia some slack guys, he doesn't do formal shopping and he is a country after all. And irrational things are rational to that precious little dimwit.