Even as the city that never slept, mornings in New York City were always something spectacular to Alfred. He could feel the people beginning to slowly rise from sleep as he had himself much earlier, and begin to flow through the streets like blood through the chambers of the great city's heart. When he closed his eyes, he could even feel it beating.

Alfred thought of his own heart as he bit into his first Egg McMuffin of the day. His health was dictated by the state of his economy, but he wondered sometimes if eating so much crappy food would do to him what it did to his people. Maybe that was why he'd gained so much weight in the past century? Either way, with a metabolism like his he needed all the calories he could get, and walking around the city gave him all the exercise he needed. Thus, his Egg McMuffin disappeared within minutes. As he was opening up his first box of pancakes, however, his gaze wandered across the street and came to rest on one of his favorite buildings in the city. A structure of sky-colored glass that slowly came to life as the sun rose behind it. Already people were filing inside, including a veritable cornucopia of different accents from people who looked far too young to be politicians.

"Wonder what those guys are up to..." He chuckled through a bite of syrup-soggy pancake. Alfred knew the answer to that question very well: it was why he had purchased five pounds of McDonald's breakfast items and hunkered down half an hour before they would arrive; it was the reason he kept such a close eye on his calendar and set his phone to remind him of the date; it was the reason that today the heart of a city would beat just a little faster as he watched all those familiar faces slowly make their way inside. Today, there was a meeting.

If he looked and listened carefully, he could make out their faces and voices. There was a blond, stern-faced man scolding a small brunette at his side. He didn't look even half finished with what he had to say when the shorter of the two managed to stop him by guilt alone. By the time they reached the door, the brunette was happily hanging on his arm again. He knew them to be Germany and Italy.

A big man in an even bigger coat followed them. Why he wore such a thing in warm weather, Alfred had no idea, but even from across the street he could see him loosening the pale pink scarf around his neck. He looked far too hot to be comfortable. Maybe he was used to dressing for the cold at home? This was Russia, if he remembered correctly, so he could only imagine that it had to be the case. For his sake, he hoped the building had good air conditioning.

One small, dark-haired man walked quietly and alone. A few others walked a ways ahead of or behind him. To Alfred, this man was Japan. To Japan, Alfred was a boy he'd run into once outside of the building who had asked him for directions. It would be a wonder if he remembered his face. Alfred knew him quite well, however, and when China sped up a bit to speak with him he couldn't help his smile. Japan had always seemed a bit timid to him, it was a wonder that he spoke to anyone at all.

Then a large group of blondes showed up- the meetings always seemed so full of them that he liked to think of it as 'fifty shades of blonde.' This was a group of six, whom he knew to be the mostly-happy family of the Nordics. He always imagined himself getting along well with the loud one, they always seemed similar save for the fact that… well, Alfred's country was much larger. It didn't seem like a kind thing to point out.

A different pair of blondes stole his attention next. A long-faced yet smiling man with sweet golden curls, walking alongside Alfred's brother. At least, he always liked to imagine that he was his brother. They shared such a likeness, he felt like he was looking in a mirror as he watched him. A part of him wondered how alike they were. He wouldn't know, he'd never spoken to him before. He did envy his brother, however, as he watched France stop to give him a tight hug before they went their separate ways. They had always been so close, he was a little jealous that he'd never been like that with his fatherland. Where was England anyway? It was possible that he got lost in the sea of blondes, but Alfred was usually so good at picking him out.

"Pardon me, do you have the time?" Alfred glanced up. Oh, there he was. Deep green eyes, sandy hair, freckle-dusted cheeks, and a small, expectant frown. He'd never had the chance to see them so close before. Alfred swore he felt his heart stop. What could he do in that moment? He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to leap up and grab ahold of him, he wanted to embrace him like he had been wanting too for the past hundred years. Despite what he had been told by his superiors, every fiber of his being was aching to let loose his secret and say those three liberating words: "I am America."

"I-I'm…" He barely caught himself. England was still staring at him, looking one part confused and two parts impatient. If he kept him waiting forever, he'd probably just walk away. Who knew when he'd get another chance to talk to him. "I, um… I'm sorry, I don't know." Of course, England looked disappointed.

"Alright, sorry for troubling you lad." He sighed, continuing on his way towards the nearest crosswalk. Alfred let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. There he went, an opportunity wasted. There were so many things he wanted to say to him, so many questions he had to ask, and he had asked none of them. Now Arthur was walking off across the street to be met by France, who instantly soured his mood. Still, they seemed more amiable towards one another with every passing day. To think, his longtime enemy was closer to him than his own former colony.

Alfred slumped in his seat, stuffing half of his hashbrowns into his mouth. "What am I so upset for? This is the same way things have always been…" he muttered. Ever since he was small, he'd been hiding from them. He'd been afraid at first. Wouldn't anyone be, when strange people showed up in their home and started to ruin things? He had only come forward to his own government in the past hundred years, and they had advised him to continue keeping his existence a secret. It was safer that way, they said. There were a lot of people who would want to harm him. Besides, with the other nations considering the States to be neutral ground, the US got to have that big, shiny building that all the other nations were currently disappearing into. They could keep a close eye on them there. The only other time he had met England's gaze was through a security video feed.

Maybe it was for the best? He would have liked to have some friends that he wouldn't outlive, but every time he came and watched them gather to meet, they all looked perfectly happy. His presence would be a change, perhaps not for the better. Who knew if he would be welcomed? Who knew if he was even wanted? Alfred sighed and tried to push those thoughts from his head. They were making him lose his appetite.

Only after all the other nations were safely inside did he find that his breakfast trays and wrappers were empty. He stuffed everything into the bag he'd brought it in and stood, stretching his arms. "Maybe it really is for the best…" He glanced across the street. There was a garbage can on the corner, not far from the entrance. Maybe if he was already on the other side, he could work up enough courage to approach the others by their lunch break…