First of a series of random Hetalia drabbles
On Top of the World
The hardest thing in the world is being the most powerful entity, trying to solve problems and help people, and, regardless of your efforts, be regarded as annoying, encumbering and nosey. Alfred knows very well that the entire world hates him. Everyone hates Americans and no one really hides it anymore. He's seemingly become the world's greatest joke and is looked down upon no matter his status as the Greatest Power.
He hears the others snicker and whisper hushed words as he passes by. He feels their eyes upon him when his back is turned and can feel their mocking smiles burn into his skin. Though he keeps a bright smile plastered over his face and speaks optimistically, he's dying on the inside. He spends many nights awake, lamenting about his status as perceived by the rest of the world. What's the point of being the greatest if the title is only attributed by technical definition and not because it's deserved?
Alfred knows he shouldn't concern himself with the opinions of others but he can't help it. He just wants to help and everyone just shoves him away, calls him names and then laughs at him. Some of them are even people he considers his friends. He doesn't know why he still does, no real friend would do such a thing – or so he imagines. He's been stuck with those same people from the very beginning and they've always acted this way – if not towards him at the start of all things, than at someone else. It's like they always need someone to collectively hate and Alfred found himself filling the role when the previous victim saw the chance.
Sometimes, Alfred just wants to disappear. He hates how people see him; he hates the snickers they make when he passes, the looks they give him and shameful image they paint of him. He hates it so much that he considers ending himself – but he can't. As long as the people within America maintain a good standard of living, don't corrupt the government too terribly (for his standard), and the economy keeps rolling without falling into hyperinflation, Alfred can't disappear no matter how hard he tries.
However, sometimes, he forgets his woes.
"Alfred...?" A soft voice calls subsequent to the creak of an old door.
Matthew peaks his head in the room and sees him sitting on the ground, next to his bed. Alfred's room is as messy as ever and he smirks at it.
"You'd rather sit in this mess than clean it?" He says and steps in.
Alfred looks up and smiles. He's glad that at least one person in the world doesn't hate him and he's so happy that person also happens to be his neighbour – and possible brother, they haven't gotten around to doing a rapid blood test to figure that one out yet.
"I'm going to mess it all up again after I do clean it." Alfred says and stands.
"Always finding excuses." Matthew teases.
Alfred grins and for a moment he thinks he might cry. He's so relieved that Matthew doesn't hate him like everyone else. He's so happy he has at least one friend. And he can't begin to describe how it feels to have one person he knows will stand by everything he does. He's probably the only one who can say that he has a companion until the end of time and, sometimes, being hated by the rest seems worth it for that seemingly meagre compensation. He doesn't know what he'd do if Matthew began to hate him like the others though. He'd likely really die. However, Alfred doesn't think about that because it'll never happen.
They'll be together until the end of time.
"Whoa, what's wrong?" Matthew asks, stepping closer.
The concern in his face makes Alfred's heart swell with joy and he can't help but embrace him. He holds him tightly and buries his face in the crook of his neck. The genuine worry Matthew feels in regards to his moods just confirms to Alfred how tight of a bond they hold. If Matthew hated him, he would never have listened to his problems with such patience and offered wise advice at the end of his lengthy rants. If Matthew hated him, he would never call him at impossible hours when Alfred so as hinted to being potentially upset to comfort him. If Matthew hated him, they wouldn't spend almost all their free time together, they wouldn't organize sport events to play against one another and they wouldn't have an unprotected border separating their homes.
So, logically, Matthew couldn't hate him.
Logically, Matthew loved him.
"Nothing." Alfred says quietly, "I'm just happy..."
He feels Matthew smile against his shoulder and return the hug gently. Alfred can't help but melt into the hug and enjoy it all the more. He doesn't know that Matthew's eyes are filled with hate and animosity in his regards just like the rest of the world.
I kind of wanted to write something about how the entire world seems to absolutely hate Americans (I don't understand why because I don't feel that way so I reckon it has to do with the fact that they're the greatest world power) and America's reaction to that. I mean, I figure it's pretty lonely and stressful because the eyes of the entire world are watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up and tear you apart for it.
So yeah, to the people who hate Americans because "they're stupid" fuck off, every country in the world has stupid people so don't go generalizing the entire population of a country because they just so happen to be very loud and noticeable.