They didn't know. They didn't know that he was actually extremely smart. They only knew the goofing off idiot. They didn't know that he only acted that way, to escape his life for at least a little while. They didn't know what he really was like. They didn't know that he wasn't actually afraid when he watched horror movies with others. They didn't know that he never turned on the TV when he was alone at home. Unbeknownst to them, he hid from it, afraid of what would show on it. He only turned it on if a guest wanted to see it. They didn't know why he always wore his jacket and gloves, even on the hottest days. They didn't know that he had scars on his wrists, and that not all of them were from the various wars his country had fought. They only know the act.
They couldn't see. They couldn't see the sadness etched on his face as he walked out the door every morning. They couldn't see him walk into McDonalds, go in back, and pick up his uniform, so he could make at least enough to last him a day. They couldn't see him freezing, as he struggled to pay for heat. They couldn't see him starving, only seeing the pillow he wore underneath to fool them. They couldn't see how close he was to having to lose his house, barely scraping by. They couldn't see the tiredness in his eyes as he sat down at the meetings, having worked to exhaustion to even get a full-round plane ticket to get there. They just snapped at him for being late. They couldn't see the way his boss ignored him, pretending he didn't exist. They couldn't see the hurt that he felt. They couldn't see him cry. They couldn't see he was alone. They only saw lies.
They never knew why. They never knew why he invited people over. They never knew that it was because he could barely afford to drive up to his neighbor's, let alone get a plane ticket for overseas. They never knew why he loved hamburgers so much. They never knew that whenever they would glance away, he would quickly show the clerk his employee card, for an employee discount. They never knew why he never offered to pay for a meal, and never refused when someone else offered to pay. They thought it was rudeness. They never knew that he didn't have the money. They only knew skin deep.
They didn't understand. They didn't understand the struggles he went through as an individual, let alone a nation. They didn't understand him. They laughed at him. He didn't get mad. They didn't understand him, after all. They were blind, not understanding, and unknowing. He was fine with it that way. He didn't want them to know, to understand, to see. But one day, someone saw. They came uninvited and saw. America's, Alfred's, secret was out as much as he hated. Someone finally saw, but did they know ad understood what it was like to be the Hero?
Okay, kind of depressing... yeah. I wanted to write something for Hetalia, and America being one of my favs, became star of the story. I might make this a story, with this being the prologue, if people want. Although if I do, people are definitely going to get OOC (out of character). So, um, yeah. Oh, for the record, Alfred is America's human name. Review Please! Happy Memorial Weekend!
Edit: Yeah, I rewrote a bit. I felt like it didn't really flow with the story. Speaking of which, I can rewrite and add to that if people want. So, um, yeah. Ciao!