America bounded through the halls, energized after a full breakfast. He was always impressed with how good Lithuania's meals were. His feet slid over the wood floor since he didn't have any shoes on. It was like ice skating. It was pretty fun! Despite being over 100 years old, America was still a child a heart. He didn't have and probably would never have that same kind of maturity that the other countries did. But that's what made him uniquely America and people loved (and hated) him for that.
"Be careful," Lithuania called as he caught a glimpse of Amerixa sliding through the halls. "I'm fine, dude," Anerica replied, giving a thumbs up and an award-winning smile. Lithuania sighed, but smiled. America's high energy and smile was contagious, especially to Lithuania. He had been through a lot lately and America helped him get things off his mind.
America continued to glide without a care until he neared the end of the hall. In front of him was a large door that he was sliding right into. He tried to stop, but had to much momentum. "Crap!" he cried, as he slammed into the door. To his surprise, the door swung open and America fell down the floor. A layer of dust was disrupted by the fall and now hung in the air. America gave a cough and squinted. His glasses fell off during the fall. He ran his hands along the floor, until he found this glasses. Giving them a quick wipe on his jacket, America put his glasses back on and looked around the room.
"Oh," he said. "It's that room." Lithuania came running after hearing the ruckus America had caused. "What happened?" he cried as he found America still lying on the floor. Then he took a look at the dark room. "What's this?" Lithuania asked. "It's so dusty and dark. It looks like it hasn't been cleaned in ages!" America stood up and dusted off his pants. "This is my storage room, dude," he explained. "It has gotten pretty dirty. There's dust everywhere!" America was silent for a moment and then gave a smile. "That's what I'll do!"
"What?" Lithuania asked, a bit confused. "Why, I'll just clean it up," America said. "I've put it off for so long. It's gotta get done eventually. Let me just change real quick and I'll start cleanin'."
"Would you like some help?" Lithuania asked. "Nah, man," America replied. "It's just some shit cleaning. It won't take too long."
"Then, I'll go make some coffee."
"Sounds good, my man." Lithuania wandered towards the kitchen to start making a pot of coffee. America headed towards his bedroom and took off his jacket. He didn't want it getting dirty. Instead, he put on an old red shirt, perfect for cleaning. Satisfied with his wardrobe change, America walked towards the storage room, ready to go.
When he entered the room, he stopped for a moment. "There's so many memories here," he thought. "I've never really been able to make it through all of them to clean this place up. There's too many. Good and bad." America propped the door open with a box to let the light shine in. The storage room didn't have a light. America started cleaning the shelf on the side wall. It had lots of small boxes and little trinkets. America opened one of the boxes and looked inside. There were lots of photos. He took them out and held them carefully. He didn't know how old they were, so it was best to be careful.
The first photo was him and France smiling in front of the newly finished Statue of Liberty. "That thing was a bitch to finish," America laughed. "France sent that thing over in pieces. It was pretty cool though." The next photo was America and a very confused looking Japan. "That was the first time I met Japan. Man, he was sure confused when I came ashore. He probably thought I was an alien!" The third photo was him and Russia shaking hands. It was a sign of peace after the Cold War. "That guy shakes hard," America remembered. "It was like he was trying to take of my hand. Knowing Russia, he probably was." America set the photos back in the box. They were all pretty happy memories. It couldn't hurt to keep those.
America turned around, so that he could go get a rag to clean up the dust, when he saw a toy chest, sitting in the corner. It immediately caught his attention and he walked over. America kneeled down over it and ran his hand along the top. The paint was chipping and parts of the wood were visible. The one corner seemed to be rotting away. When it was new, it had been bright yellow and was the home to all of America's favorite toys. America opened the chest and gasped at what he found inside.
There were small toy soldiers, all hand-made. Each had their own face, their own personality. America grabbed the soldier with a goofy looking face. "Looks like Italy!" he smiled. However, his smile quickly faded as he thought about who had given him the soldiers.
"Can I really have them?" a young America asked, holding the soldiers in his arms. He was talking to his big brother, the strong and proud Britain. But Britain's arm was in a sling, and he didn't look as tough as normal. "Of course you can have them," Britain answered. "I made them for you after all. I nearly broke my arm putting one of them together!" America laughed and looked at his new toys. "You even gave them all faces!" he exclaimed in joy. Britain have a hearty laugh. "It's the extra detail that counts. I thought you'd like that." America nodded and then raced off to play with his soldiers. "Don't forget to put them away when you're done!" Britain called. America had a habit of leaving his toys everywhere. To solve the problem, Britain made him a fancy toy chest to put his things in it. "I will!" America yelled back. "I'm Britain!" America giggled playfully, holding one of his soldiers in the air. "It's impossible to defeat me!" Britain smiled and walked off to work on some paperwork. His little brother never failed to make him smile.
America looked at the old toy soldier in his hands. It's arm had almost fallen off. "I don't really need these old things anymore," he sighed. "I'm not a kid. I'll just throw it in the pile of stuff to get rid of." He put the soldier back in the chest and closed it. America picked it up and set it next to the open door, so he'd remember to get rid of it. Next America saw an old suit, sitting on a chair. He walked over and picked it up, holding to his body. It was many sizes to small and there was a rip in the sleeve. It was unwearable and even with some sewing, could never fit America. He thought to himself about where the suit had come from. "Oh yeah," he said sadly as he remembered. "It was from him too."
"I have a surprise for you!" Britain said, pulling a new black suit out from behind him. "A suit?" the teenage America asked, a bit confused. "It's nice and all, but I don't need a suit. I like what I'm wearing now." He glanced down at his loose fitting shirt and pants. His shoes were covered in dirt, evidence of his time outside. His hair was a bit of a mess and he had a scratch on his face. "If you want to be an adult, you have to dress the part. You're too sloppy. No one will take you seriously dressed like that!" America rolled his eyes. He had gotten used to his brother's nonsensical advice. "Why don't you try it on?" Britain asked. America reluctantly sighed, and grabbed the suit. In a few minutes, he had changed into the suit and was looking at himself in front of the mirror. "You look much better!" Britain smiled, placing his hand on America's soldier. "It's like you're a different person."
"It feels kinda weird," America said, gripping the sides of the suit's jacket. "I look... different." America frowned as he looked towards his big brother. "I think you look great," Britain smiled at him. America smiled back and looked at himself in the mirror. "It does kinda fit me..."
"I did look pretty snazzy in that suit," America thought back. Those had been good times, but after that everything started to go downhill. Britain had won a lot of wars lately, and had gotten pretty cocky. He became hard to be around. It seemed like every time America got close to him, there was a fight. The two couldn't tolerate each other anymore. Their brotherly bonds disappeared in an instant. The good old days were gone. Then one day, America just left. Without warning, he disappeared and didn't tell Britain where he was going. Of course, Britain found him, but America refused to come back home. It wasn't his home anymore.
America tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. His chest hurt a little, remembering the past. Not all his memories were good ones. He threw the suit over his arm and walked over to the "trash" pile. He set the suit down on top of the wooden chest. "Isn't there anything worth keeping in here?" America asked out loud.
He looked around and found a box that caught his eye. He walked over to it and opened the flaps. Inside was an old gun. It was a bayonet. The sharp, but small sword connect to the gun had rusted a bit. America held the gun in his hands and pretended to shoot it. It fit his hands perfectly. America set down the gun and took a good look at it. He noticed a long scratch in the wood on its side. America touched the scratch, wondering where it came from. Then, he remembered. "That time," he said aloud. "It'd have to be."
The ground was muddy due to the pouring rain. The air was thick with tension. The colonial army, armed and ready, stood behind their leader. They waited in anticipation for their call. America stood in front of them, tightly gripping his gun. His uniform was stained with mud, but he had a heroic aura. He would not stand down. In front of him was the man he tried so hard to run away from, Britain. Britain was alone, a risky choice. He could easily be overwhelmed. He held his gun at his side. Despite the filth, his uniform was pristine. "What are you doing, idiot?" Britain yelled, his eyebrows furrowed. "Why can't you listen to anything I say?" America gritted his teeth. "I don't have to listen to you anymore! From this point on, consider me... independent!" he exclaimed, his eyes a bit wild. Britain looked furious and in a burst of anger, ran towards America, his gun facing forward. The colonists readied their guns to shoot, but did nothing. America held his gun up in defense and Britain's bayonet ran into the wood, scratching it. The force of the attack pushed the gun out of America's hands. It landed on the muddy ground beside him.
America was unarmed, but showed no fear. If Britain would take his life, so be it. Britain held the gun close to America's face, his legs shaking. Suddenly, he fell to the ground and let go off the gun. His hands covered his face. America stepped back in awe. Britain's sobs were audible. Never had America seen his brother so weak and vulnerable. He had never seen Britain cry before. "I can't do it," Britain cried. "I can't hurt you." Only a few days later with the help of France, America forced Britain into surrender and to recognize his independence. It had seemed like Britain had fought hard, but America knew Britain had given up a long time ago.
"I'll keep this," America smiled. He rubbed his eye to stop any tears. He put the gun back in the box and walked towards the door. He looked at the suit and toy chest. "Maybe, I won't get rid of these things." America placed them back in the storage room. When he finished, he gave a long sigh. "I think that's enough for today. I don't think I can do much more."
Lithuania had finished making coffee, so he and America decided to sit outside on a bench and drink it. There was something serene about nature that both countries enjoyed. "How did the cleaning go?" Lithuania asked, taking a drink of his coffee. "Not too great," America confessed. "I don't think I got rid of anything. I feel like a sentimental old man. Geez..."
"You're not old," Lithuania smiled. "You're just becoming an adult."
"Are you saying I'm not mature?" America asked raising an eyebrow. "Of course not!" Lithuania exclaimed. "I-I wasn't, I swear. I-I was saying that you've really grown and you're... you're..."
"Dude, I was kidding!" America laughed. "Don't take things so seriously." He gave Lithuania a slap on the back. Lithuania sighed and set down his coffee in relief. "It's been a long time since I've gotten to hang out with someone like this," America smiled. "It's like having a brother again."
"You have a brother?" Lithuania asked in surprise. "Who is it?" America gave a grin and took a drink of his coffee. "You probably know him. He's kinda weird and can be kind of a jerk, but he's pretty awesome."