American Mask

Before

This is a flashback to before the terrorist fiasco btw

Sorry it took so long lol

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"Hey," an annoyed Frenchman cried, "are you even listening to me?" Alfred nodded, though his head was still up in space. France was practicing his presentation for the meeting, and America was to be the judge, deciding what did and didn't need to be changed. America, being the intellectual he was, had watched the presentation, and looked it over from top to bottom. Though it didn't seem like it, he had payed attention, and after further evaluation, decided the presentation was fine as it was. He didn't bother telling France that, since it was a rare thing to see the man flustered or annoyed.
Alfred chuckled, taping away at his phone. Flappy Bird and Subway Surfers were old news, so Alfred was playing fortnite instead. Even that was getting old though. After a few more minutes of boredom, America opted to watching France pace nervously around the room. The meeting was in an hour, and the two were sharing a hotel suite. It cost less and was more efficient.
America finally decided it was time to tell the stressed Frenchy what he thought, as he cleared his throat rather loudly. "It's awesome France! I bet the others are gonna totally think it's cool too!!" A large smile branded itself to the teens face, "Don't worry bro, you'll do fine! Besides, I'm the hero, and heroes never lie!!! Ahahaha!!" France grimaced and covered his ears due to the Americans noisiness. Alfred just kept laughing, because even if him and France shared a room, it didn't mean he could put down his mask. In fact, it meant he had to keep up the act even longer. The only breaks he had gotten in the last 3 days were while he slept, and that certainly wasn't the norm for him. Usually, the mask would crumble as soon as he locked the door of his home, or as soon as he left the meeting. It all depended on the amount of verbal lashings he received from the others.
"You didn't even watch the presentation." France grumbled under his breath. Alfred was going to retort, but held back, and instead, laughed again.
"Well," America started, "I'm gonna go change! Don't go sneaking any peeks now, okay Francy pants? Ahahaha!!" France just rolled his eyes, and continued rehearsing his presentation while Alfred entered the bathroom.
The young nation removed his shirt, and pulled a silver razor from a secret compartment within one of his drawers. He spectated it momentarily, before pulling out the first aid kit, and wiping the blade off with alcohol. He couldn't go get an infection now, could he? He turned the water on in the shower, not bothering to heat it up. Blue eyes gazed longingly at the razor in America's hand, and for a moment, he hesitated. Would the others notice? Probably not. He just needed to be careful, and make sure to wrap it well.
Alfred nodded, reassuring himself that everything would be fine. He glanced down at his arms, his razor held steadily in his left hand. With one final inhale, the routine began. Cut, down, cut, down, cut, down, and once there were five on each arm, he began again, with cuts in between the five, adding up to a total of 9. After this was done, he hopped into the cold shower, wincing as the water slammed into his forearms. Once he got used to the cold, he began to wash away the blood that dribbled slowly from his cuts. Once the wounds had stopped leaking so severely, he began to wash his hair and body, before exiting the shower. He wrapped his wounds after drying them with a dark towel, then proceeded to dry the rest of his tan body. After that was said and done, he changed clothes and ran his hands through his hair in order to give it the wild look everyone would be expecting. He checked his smile in the mirror, then checked it again just in case, and unlocked the bathroom door. His eyes spotted France pacing by the door, with some slightly crumpled papers in his hand. Alfred exhaled through his nose, and strolled up behind the Frenchman.
"Dude," he grinned, "it's fine. I'm sure it'll be fine. I was distracting, so use that as an excuse." France rose an eyebrow, "America? What do you mean?" The blonde shrugged, "I'm just saying! Tell them that my awesomeness was too much, and you couldn't focus, haha! Besides, the presentation looks great! Not as great as me but still!! Pffhaha, let's go, c'mon!!!" America snatched France's computer and papers, and placed them sloppily into the Europeans briefcase, before shoving him out the door. The American followed with his own case, and tugged on his jacket. France looked annoyed, but said nothing as the two left the hotel and hailed a cab.
America made friendly small talk with the taxi driver, and the two ended up on the subject of mental illnesses. [beware, intense topic up ahead]

"My daughter says she's got depression, and keeps talkin' 'bout how I don't understand and that's it's not just bein' sad. Y'know I love my daughter, but isn't she bein' a bit of a drama queen?" America frowned a bit, "Not necessarily..." The taxi driver turned to look at Alfred after stopping at a red light. "What's that supposta' mean?" Blue eyes glanced nervously out the window as Alfred tried to conceive an explanation. "Well, your daughters right. It isn't just being sad. It's a lot of things... How do I put it? Uhm, it's like- like when you're drowning, and it suffocates you. You can't call for help very easily, so water keeps filling your lungs. But... but everyone around you can breath just fine." He scratched the back of his head, and watched the driver expectantly. "Hmmm.... well I think that warrants a therapist, or councilor at least." The man smiled kindly, "Thanks for the explanation kiddo." America nodded, completely forgetting Frances presence.
The man waved the two goodbye as they exited the cab and headed towards the large office building. America noticed the Frenchman's wary glances, but chose to ignore them as the duo walked silently down the hall towards the meeting room.
Alfred glanced behind France, and noticed a shady guy hanging around by the front gate. Resolving to investigate, the American split off from Francis with the excuse of 'the more burgers the better.'  Frances deep blue eyes squinted apprehensively, but he made no objections as America skipped down the hall, away from the large oak doors that awaited the pair.

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First or third person?

Plz vote y'all

úwù