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CHAPTER 3: The Dissonance

AMERICA
Many things were normally on America's mind. It was like an unorganized office desk in there: a tornado, a concert of opposing music genres. Trivial things, yes, important things, yes; you name it. In some alternate universe, he was an systematic guy. Not in this one.

He liked to think about things months, perhaps years in advance, because it helped his life stay stable and not descent into a pit of emotional predicaments. With so much to organize and relations to keep neutral, it was important that his mind stay at peace as well.

He hated forgetting birthdays, so he planned gifts and surprise parties way prior. He had planned South's nearly two months before, and still somehow North had found a way to invite his friends and completely flip it upside down (he stayed far away from any Communist Monopoly games going on that day #Trauma). Greece's birthday was also quickly drawing nearer, so he thought about it quite often these few weeks.

He thought about friends and families. To everyone's anger, Representatives were not spared from the complexities of human emotion. America tended to overthink, occasionally having to rant it all out to one of his siblings, but of course, to the media, he was still their blonde icon of power. He worried about his influence. He worried about his looks. It was only when he finally felt comfortable that he had stopped wearing his sunglasses so often, replacing his mirrored ones with slightly transparent ones that he normally perched on his head or the collar.

Oh, and unforgettably, he thought about love. The thing that was the one more labyrinthine idea to tackle than friends. He had only dated two people in the past, Philippines and Mexico, two Representatives of two genders, as he had realized perhaps halfway through last year that he was oh so terribly down for a lover, regardless if they were male or female. So, yes, bi. For reasons unexplainable and reasons he didn't want to reminisce, he now traipsed the roads of being single, wishing for someone that he could truly love.

But whenever his gut told him something bad was brewing, all these other thoughts of everything else wiped out completely, leaving him a blank slate: a cycle of endless focus on one sole situation. You know, it was completely out of character, but all's fair in love and war, right?

It was natural instinct. He wanted to know more about Poland and Germany. The thought kept egging him on to find out more, more, as much as he could until he knew it all.

Every event leading up leading to this shaky balance of peace had resulted in a reality that he thought was finally, at long last, perfect. Now that it seemed like something was emerging, one that would threaten it, he didn't want to take any risks.

So he talked to Italy.

★

"Hey, dude," America sighed, slumping down onto his friend's couch after school had ended, the remainder of the day annoyingly uneventful. He dropped his bag down on the floor. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well," Italy responded cheerfully, the classic aroma of pizza and pasta wafting around the house. "Would you like pineapple on your pizza, Meri?"

"Yes, please." Hawaii's influence.

Italy hummed a tune as he placed a few slices of freshly cut pineapple onto the pizza and motioned for his friend to sit down with him. Gratefully, America did so.

"Now tell me what's bothering you so much," Italy smiled, rolling pasta around his fork.

"Oh god, Italy, there's so much on my mind right now. You know Poland, right?"⎯ a nod from Italy ⎯ "And Germany?" ⎯ a frown ⎯ "Yeah, well, they've always been kind of..."