Work Text:
The world stood still. States found themself in a semi-conscious state, floaty and untethered by gravity. Gradually, their mind became aware of the firm mattress they laid upon. They recognized a faint sense of defeat within them as reality crept back into their senses.
Their eyes flickered open. Their surroundings were a pale color, enveloped in shadow with exception to the soft moonlight peeking through the window in some spots. The hospital room was much more luxurious than the average one, spacious and decorated as if it were a hotel. The beeping of a heart monitor rang out at a steady pace. It continued despite how annoying the noise was, how much they wished for it to just stop—
It reminded them of their morning alarm.
Other than the incessant beeping, the room was as silent as a cemetery. Only occasional noise from the hallway was heard; no signs of life other than States’ breathing were present inside. States themself made no effort to move. Bandages restricted their chest and left hand. The cracks littered across their body were hidden by a blanket that felt just as restrictive and suffocating. If the crumbling country were to move it, however, the blanket would fall away and expose their vulnerability to the world—an even more unwanted outcome.
The hospital gown they were wearing felt far too revealing for their comfort. In fact, just being in this hospital felt like a specialized torture method. They couldn’t find it in themself to care, though.
The surface of the small nightstand next to their bed was empty, save for their phone. There were no gifts, no “get-well-soon” cards, not even a single piece of evidence that anyone visited them even for just a moment. The chairs meant for visitors were left empty; they looked as if they'd been left untouched for a while. States would’ve been lying if they said they didn’t expect this.
They had always been alone. Now, that fact was finally reflected in reality. This room, where only they existed, was as lonesome as States themself was. Maybe that’s why they hated it so much. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t give enough of a fuck to really care.
Glancing over to the side, they saw the calendar on the wall; it read July 2025. It looked like the month had just started, judging by the markings on the dates up to July 3rd. Their eyes drifted to the very beginning of the month. They squinted, their foggy headspace struggling to recall any importance behind the date.
Since their brain failed to cooperate, States lazily grabbed their phone. As they moved it closer to themself, they found that there was a cord connected, restraining its movement: someone must have put their phone on the charger while they were out. States pulled out the cord and dropped it without a care for where it landed.
They touched its surface and their lock screen appeared, which displayed Friday, July 4. The time, 5:42, was shown below it. Even more eye-catching was the notification containing a considerable chunk of text sent from Canada 3 days ago. They tapped on it and found it wasn’t the only paragraph he sent. If States didn’t know any better, they would’ve thought it was the entire Declaration of Independence copy-and-pasted. They supposed the two weren’t very different: they’re certainly both very long lists of grievances. The rest of States’ family, too, sent messages carrying their sentiments, albeit a lot shorter. At last, their mind realized the significance behind July 1st.
Those weren’t the only notifications. Half were from group chats they were required to be in—otherwise, they would’ve been kicked as soon as possible. They had to hold back laughter seeing how much more barren their messaging app was now compared to last year. The conversation in those chats had nothing to do with States. The rest of them were news, social media, or other miscellaneous apps.
States swiftly clicked the phone’s power button and set it back on the desk. There was nothing important to be found on it.
Footsteps from the outside echoed through the empty room, reverberating inside their hollow body. The noise from the air conditioning was nearly imperceptible, yet still present if one were to focus. States lost themself in the silence, their senses fading to static.
Absentmindedly, they pondered how it was possible to drop them off at a hospital discreetly. They were probably wheeled in with a cloth over their body like a corpse. They likely were one at that point. It’s unfortunate that personifications were doomed to exist for as long as the country they represent, even if they sustained fatal injuries. They healed no matter the injury, not until their country’s fall. They’ll bounce back and return to their routine, acting as if nothing had happened in the first place, continuing as they were for the past years, decades, centuries…
They wished they had stayed a corpse.
They shut their eyes. They were bored out of their mind; In their opinion, hospitals were some of the most boring places to be if you didn't work there. He’s always bored these days. Their mind drifted back to Canada, who seemed so upset that they didn’t go to his little party full of people that hate them. It was simply confusing because Canada was one of those aforementioned people.
The number of people who still liked them had grown to few and far between. Most of their fellow personifications had blocked them, cussed them out, or passive-aggressively cut them off, only bothering to talk to them for work reasons.
They wouldn’t have gone to that party even if they weren’t in failed-suicide induced coma, considering the last time they showed their face at Canada’s house, the door had literally been slammed in their face. Granted, they understood his hostility, but his… hurt feelings, assumed from the paragraphs, when States didn’t show up puzzled them.
It’s just impossible to satisfy these people, they concluded, slight irritation simmering beneath their skin.
States opened their eyes, their environment desolate as ever despite its luxury. How ironic, the one person here who actually wants to die is given special attention as if a monarch, while everyone else has to deal with the grueling incompetence and exorbitant cost of American healthcare, they thought, cruelly amused. Suddenly, they’re struck with a realization.
July 4th, huh… they didn’t even register the meaning of the date when they first saw it. It seemed they were going to leave this hospital sooner than what’s recommended, then. God forbid the obnoxiously patriotic America be absent for their own birthday, after all. The show must go on.
The sun began to rise, the dawn’s light breaking through the dark of night.
The sickly sweet promise of a future filled them with dread.