America gasped for breath as he strained himself as much as he could to sprint even faster. He grasped onto his satchel as it slipped further down his shoulder. America skidded around a corner, his destination finally in sight. He paid no attention to the child that he had rammed into that was now laying in the street. America pushed his glasses up onto his nose as he came to a halt. He doubled over and gasped for breath, searching in his bag as he did so. He needed to make sure that he brought his lunch; he thought that he might have left it in his hotel room in his rush to get to the meeting hall. America had wanted to get here early for a change, hoping that he wouldn't have to put up another egotistical act in front of the nations again. However, his chances were ruined by his alarm clock. America, now giving up on searching for his lunch, picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

As America walked toward to roaring conference room, he began to wonder if Canada was doing well. Canada had offered to host the world meeting this year. Though most of the nations never notice the personification of Canada, they certainly know where the land of Canada is. Upon reaching the doors separating America from the other nations of the world, America sighed and gently laid his forehead on the cool metal door. Just another meeting to struggle though, America thought. If I get through today, I can finally go home and be alone in my own room. Upon concluding his thoughts, America opened the door and flashed a gigantic grin.

"The hero is here now! No need to worry," America proclaimed loudly to the nations filling the room.

Most of the nations ignored America, save an annoyed glare directed at him. Germany looked quite relieved to see that America was present and proceeded to yell at the other nations, "Quit your senseless chatter and sit down. Now that the final person has decided to grace us with his presence, we shall begin. The same rules apply as before. No more than ten minutes for each speech. If you have something to say, make sure that it is not stupid to save yourself and me the time of strangling you. If you wish to comment, raise your hand in a way that does not mock my country's past!"

Many of the countries rushed to their seats, eager to get the meeting over with and continue the pointless bickering that was happening prior to Germany's declaration. America dragged his feet and plopped into his seat, unhappy to start receiving the verbal abuse that was soon to occur. Germany started talking, or rather, yelling to keep attention, about the domestic issues of each country. They went around the table, each country reading from a written list of affairs that they were supposed to share with the rest of the world. America went next to last, mindlessly droning off the list on the paper in front of him. Luckily for America, before he was like this, he demonstrated these mannerisms during the meetings, finding them to be nonbeneficial and consuming precious time. After all of the nations had gone, Germany started to write on a whiteboard. This was America's favorite time during the meetings. This was the time that all of the nations would sit and do whatever they wanted because Germany was usually too preoccupied drawing out his 'battle plans' on the whiteboard. America got out a notebook and started to write in it. This notebook was spiral bound and lined. It looked like a book that a child would carry with them to school, which was why America thought that it made such a good idea. He knew that most of the countries in the room kept journals that looked like journals. America's thoughts were as such: If a nation would get curious and look for his journal, the nation would never even think to look in something as common as a spiral bound notebook. Beside of America, England quietly retrieved his crochet hooks and red and gold material from his bag and started to crochet a scarf. America shook his head and was about to turn back to his notebook before his foot was hit under the table. America looked across the table to see Spain slouching in his chair, slightly sweating and with blushing cheeks. America, curious as ever, got a sneaking suspicion of what was happening and looked over to see an empty chair of the one whom he suspected of this act. America, innocently pretending to drop his pen, bent down to look under the table to see Romano at Spain's lap. America smirked at the pair and was about to about straighten when he got a devious idea. Smirking even more, if possible, America reached over and stoked Romano's curl. Romano let out a strangled noise and sucked even harder, squirming on the floor. Spain's hips jerked and America knew that his work was complete. Before he could be caught, America quickly straightened and began writing again. His smile quickly fading from his facial features. America's thoughts, that were joyful and full of laughter, had suddenly changed into depressing and full of darkness. The nation rested his forehead in his hand as his writing became more aggressive.

Soon, lunch break had arrived. All of the nations broke into their separate groups to eat lunch. Most of the Mediterranean countries had gathered together to eat, along with most of the African and Asian countries. America was about to go and sit with his brother, Canada, when England and France invited him to sit with Spain, Romano, Italy, Germany, China, Japan, and Russia. America internally cursed. Wonderful, America thought, Yet another chance of them to make fun of me for being an egotistical fatass. And yet another time that I have to fake my way through this meeting. America, not seeing a way to avoid a confrontation with the countries, dragged Canada with him.

"Let me guess, America. You have more McDonald's again for lunch today?" Italy innocently asked.

America nodded and pretended to search in his bag for a cheeseburger, knowing that it couldn't be found. He had left it at the hotel room. However, before he could falsely proclaim that the hero had forgotten his lunch and make a quick run to the nearest fast food chain, England whispered in America's ear, "Meet me in the hallway in five minutes."

England then said that he needed to use the restroom, promptly rising to his feet and leaving the conference room. America's hands started to shake and become ice cold. What could he even want to talk about? Does he know? No, there's no possible way. He probably just wants to insult me personally. Yeah, that seems about right. America was pulled from his thoughts by Canada asking if he was alright. America, not wanting to seem like he was bothered by his thoughts, waved his hand to Canada. Addressing the group around him, America said, "Alright, dudes. So, the hero totally forgot his lunch today, so I'm going to run to the store really quick and buy something!"

In an attempt to avoid the venomous comments, America ran out of the room and into the hallway, but not before hearing Romano comment on how much of a fatass he was and before hearing Germany question as to whether America even had the endurance to run out of the building. America took in a deep breath and looked to his left, seeing England leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Upon seeing the younger nation, England said, "Come here, lad. We need to have a talk."

America gulped and shakily, but appearing confident, walked over to where England was leaning against the wall. America knew from his childhood that England never called anyone 'lad' unless England wanted to discuss a serious matter. England's green eyes attempted to look into America's eyes, finding only that America was looking at the ground beneath him. England lightly placed a hand on America's shoulder and used a finger to make America look at him. America, ashamed and wanting to avoid eye contact with the man who raised him, looked at the wall behind England's head.

"America" England started, "How have you been lately?"

America almost choked. Attempting to seem unaffected, America anxiously cleared his throat. He could feel his legs slowly melting away underneath him. America could also feel his hands starting to shake more violently and his body starting to sweat at an alarming rate, even though he was cold. America, wanting to seem natural, forced a smile to his face and replied, "Nothing, my friend. The hero just needs to grab his lunch! Forgetting things on the job isn't really the duty of a hero."

England started to say something else, but America, desperately wanting to change the subject, interrupted by saying, "Hey, dude! Did you see Spain earlier today when Germany was drawing out his stupid Nazi plans? Did you know that he was being sucked off by Romano? Dude, I came up with the perfect diversion to see what was really going on. . . you know, get some of that first-person action? So, I dropped my pen and bent over to get it, and Romano was all up and in Spain's lap. Like, seriously man, who knew that Romano can give such a good blow job? Apparently Spain did though, 'cause he was finished before it even started! His end was as fast as the dissolution of the USSR. Like, dude, if you're gonna' bang, you gotta' have some bang. You know what I mean, dude?"

"Funny you should say that, America. While you were seemingly satisfied by Spain's still lacking endurance being put to the test by Romano, I saw, while crocheting, that you seemed to be writing at a rather furious rate in a spiral notebook of yours. You don't mind telling me about that, do you? Because if you don't, I will tell you what I saw."

America gulped and felt his anxiety getting harder to control. His hands started visibly shaking. Attempting to seem as calm as he wished he could be, America leaned his shoulder against the wall, ready to flee if it should become necessary. Not wishing to reply to England and wanting to test how much England actually saw, America, still avoiding eye contact, shook his head.

"Very well then, America. You wrote about some interesting and. . . heavy topics. Namely, about purposely forgetting your lunch at the hotel because you thought that you were overweight and, what is this about blood? I didn't quite get to that part. I'm worried about you, America. What's going on here?"

America, struck suddenly with a massive wave of anger, lashed out, saying, "It's none of your damn business anyway, England. Since when have you been that worried about what is actually happening with me? Ever since I was a colony, you put up a front for France, so why should you suddenly care now? Why are you reading what I've been writing anyway? Last time I checked, you were way to cozy with France to be bothered with reading my thoughts and personal details that were written on paper. Why don't you go back to crocheting that Gryffindor scarf for France? 'Cause that seems to be the only thing that you actually care about. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go and get my lunch from McDonald's. Goodbye to you, sir. Also, when you go back with others, tell Romano that I love him very much and that I'm very sorry, but I have to break up with him."

With those words said, America secured his bag on his shoulder and turned sharply on his heel. He had a plan. First, America was going to go back to his hotel room and gather his things. He would pack them all and grab his emergency stash of cash from the cracker tin, picking up his hamburger that he left on the way out. After he reached the hotel, America practically ran to the stairwell and took the steps two at a time to the fourth floor. America inserted his room key and quickly turned the handle, allowing him access to his hotel room. They won't notice that I've even gone, America thought as he started to throw his clothes and toiletries into his suitcase. After quickly packing, America had one last glance at the bedroom and bathroom before zipping his suitcase and grabbing the hamburger. America walked down the hallway, swiftly dropping the hamburger outside of England's door, and got to the elevators before hearing his door shut. On his way down, America secured the extra cash in his pocket and fiddled with his room keys. Once reaching the ground floor, America speed walked over to the desk and returned the room keys with a forced smile. Once outside, America hailed a taxi and told the driver to go to the airport.

This was the second part of his plan. America was going to book an immediate public flight back to Washington D.C. and go back to his apartment in D.C. to gather the rest of the things that he would need. While getting closer to the airport, America started making a mental list of what all he could put in a backpack and what all he wanted to take. He also thought about where to run to, specifically what state. Canada knew only a small bit of America's struggles. Canada also knew where all of America's houses were and had a list that America made specifically for him, that stated all of the places that America could hide, should there be a threat towards his wellbeing. America knew that it would be dumb to hide from the other countries in his D.C. apartment. They knew that he lived there for almost half of the year. America needed to find a good state to go to. Not a well-known state, the countries would look there almost immediately, No, America needed to hide in plain sight. Somewhere that the countries would never even think to look. America was interrupted from his thoughts by the taxi driver announcing that they had arrived at America's destination, the airport. America practically jumped from the cab, throwing the correct amount of money at the driver. America, wanting to get back to Washington D.C. as soon as possible, ran to the security checkpoints. After managing to get through them with little problem (except for forgetting to remove his belt), America purchased, in cash, a ticket back to D.C. that was boarding in five minutes. Almost as soon as the transaction was complete, the flight was announced to board. America thanked the woman and ran to the gate. Panting, America boarded the plane and found his seat next to an elderly woman with mousy brown hair. The woman seemed to be carrying on a conversation to the reflection of herself in the window. America rolled his eyes and, at the pilot's order, buckled his seat belt. The plane quickly accelerated and reached cruising altitude at a relatively quick rate. America stared straight ahead, counting down the hours until he would arrive in his home country. And what state he should hide in.

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Heyo so it's your author here. Few basic ground rules for you. I literally only write this when I'm feeling depressed so yeah. Updates are gonna be anywhere from really often to a couple of months in between, depending on how I'm feeling. Also, America is my sweet child. But yeah, basically, the updates aren't gonna be that often - I have a ReALLy busy life and do as good as I can, ok? Just be patient with me, that's all I ask for. Also, I'm not gonna post A/Ns if I can help it. I'll only post them when there's something that needs to be addressed. Double also, if you guys have any questions, want to talk, or literally anything, idk, then PM me! So yeah. Thanks for reading and supporting me and this fic and feel free to vote, comment, and recommend this to your Heta friends! Thanks again for reading, and be your own HERO! (or let America be the HERO, I know I would!)