America sat at his desk, writing.
Dear World,
I find myself alone this Christmas, yet again. This is the 30th or 40th time, I'm not really sure.
I find myself drinking obscene amounts of coffee. I realized about five minutes ago that I'm really, really tired. The throbbing in my head is becoming unbearable. It's cold.
I just want to sleep.
I'm sorry for all the hassle this is going to cause. You know, maybe this could've been prevented, right? I could've just found a family to spend the holidays with. But I can't do that; not when I'm already living off of their money. The last thing I would want to do is take food off of anyone's plate, but that's exactly what I've been doing for the past fifty or sixty years.
I don't think any of you will miss me, so maybe I won't cause too much of a hassle. I hope there isn't a funeral. From what I've heard, funerals are expensive, and it's not like anyone would care enough to show up anyway. So, I just want to be buried. No cremation, because who would take me? I guess I could be scattered...
But no. Now I'm getting too picky. It's not like I even deserve that much anyway.
Originally, I was going to throw myself off a bridge. Wouldn't that be ironic; to finally fly?
I'm too tired now, though.
Honestly, by now it would be pointless to spend my holidays with someone. It would be so much easier to get this over with. When all you can do is eat and sleep to avoid a problem, it's clear you can't avoid it anymore.
Even if any of you did care, those of you who will be notified as soon as possible will likely be notified tomorrow. There, I've spared most of you your holiday. Just think about it: you'll get to start a new year without me disrupting and ruining and hitting into things!
So this is it, I guess. No more being alone, hopefully. Maybe I'll finally get some rest.
He signed it and stood up, stretching. His eyelids were heavy and he was so very tired. He took the gun.
His phone rang. He answered, not bothering to check who it was. "Hello?"
"Merry Christmas, America. When you texted me, it was about twelve in the morning here. I just woke up and saw the text." England's voice came through.
"Oh...? Well, sorry to inconvenience you." America said quietly.
"Can you skype me instead?" England asked.
"Umm... Yeah, sure." America moved to his computer, sending the call. England answered a moment later.
"I was going to call you yesterday, but I figured you were busy, and France was annoying the shit out of me," England explained. His hair was slightly messed up compared to usual.
"How was your holidays?"
"Great. America, I was going to ask sooner, but I forgot. Can I fly over for the new year?"
"Yeah, of course. Why?"
"I haven't talked to you in a long time, and I want to see what all the hype is about. Also, France invited me over and I need an excuse, and seeing you again is perfectly reasonable because I wanted to see you again anyway, outside of some stupid world meeting where nothing is done anyway. So anyway, I... You don't have to have me over, I can book a hotel, but when—,"
"You can stay over. If you can get there in time, I can pick you up from Colorado in the next day or so."
England smiled. "Yeah, sure. That sounds nice." England frowned. "Well, I'm going to go eat breakfast. Goodbye, America."
"Bye, England."
England hanged up.
America let out a breath. Maybe he wouldn't have to be alone. Maybe everything would be okay.
(I don't know how to do transitions, so here you go. I'm sorry.)
Recently, everyone had been concerned for America. They didn't say it, but something just seemed off about him. He'd been acting really calm recently, which was strange for him. He had bags on his eyes. The thing that worried everyone the most, though, is that it seemed he didn't eat much anymore.
Japan had said that America had stopped talking to him. For the past few days, in fact, America hadn't talked to anybody, which was extremely unusual for the usually talkative young nation.
Everybody was worried. Most of all, though, England was worried.
He was glad America was okay and willing to spend time together. That was a start, at least.
He just hoped that nothing was wrong. He hoped he could get to America before anything horrible happened.
(I don't know how to do transitions, so here you go. I'm sorry.)
It had been nearly four years since the date of America's suicide note. He was sitting in his room.
He clutched the note tightly to his chest. Things had changed since then. He felt better, and he'd stopped drinking so much coffee. Everybody seemed keen to include him in things, which was strange but not entirely unwelcome.
He stepped out, walking downstairs. Different nations were talking to each other, but they all looked at him when he came in. "Alright, everybody— who's ready to party?"
The first World Christmas Party was hardly Christmas themed at all. There were no pine trees or overly-religious decorations. Only snowflakes and things of that sort.
The world was getting along, though, and that was all that really mattered.
Things were okay. For now, at least. And now was enough.
I was listening to 'Christmas Will Break Your Heart' by LCD Soundsystem, and I guess that's part of what influenced this story. That, and just my own thoughts. Reviews would be wonderful. I hope you enjoyed the story, and have a great day, everybody! Stay safe.