Today was my last day. I actually didn't mind working as America's cleaning maid for a while, despite the effeminate implications. I mean, he could be obnoxiously oblivious at times, but at least he was better than Russia. Russia was really scary. I just couldn't refuse when he said he wanted me to work for him again.

I sighed and set the cleaning supplies on the porch. I dug into my pocket and retrieved the spare key America let me use to let myself in. Things were so much different at America's than they were at Russia's. At America's, I could enter and leave freely. At Russia's, I could never leave, and I never wanted to enter. Working at America's gave me a small sense of independence, even if short lived.

"Mr. America?" I called out. I guess I was here a bit early. America probably wasn't awake yet. I'd just have to get started on my own.

I made my way over to his living room. That's where I usually started. The TV was left on with the volume turned all the way up. A large blanket was wadded up carelessly on the couch. I rolled my eyes. America was such a slob. I wonder how he had managed to live before I came to clean up after him. I walked over the blaring TV and turned it off. I walked over to the couch and pulled at the blanket.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" it yelled and ripped itself from my hand. I jumped a little bit in shock.

"I'm sorry, Mr. America. Were you asleep? I didn't mean to wake you. It's just today is my last day to clean..."

"Nah, I wasn't asleep. You just really scared me, Lithuania. I couldn't hear you over the TV." America emerged from the blanket and stretched his arms up. He had dark circles under his askew glasses. "Pulled an all-nighter last night watching scary movies. Forgot today was your last day."

He yawned and rearranged his glasses on his face. "Are you sure you want to go back and work for Russia? I wouldn't mind letting you work here until you get back on your feet."

"No, it's alright, Mr. America," I said through my teeth. "I actually really like it at Mr. Russia's place. It's so nice, and you can hardly feel the cold at all. He has plenty of room for everyone."

America shook his head. "I can't believe you actually like that icy creepy place. Whatever. Suit yourself. I think I'll go catch some Zs, so you won't need to clean my room today. Oh, and you might want to avoid the north side." He shivered at that last part.

My eyebrows raised in surprise. "Why? Is there something wrong with the north side? I could try to fix it if you want me to..."

"Dude, you don't want to go over there. I swear to God, there's a ghost over there!" America's tired eyes were wide

I sighed in relief. Was that all? I had been concerned that there actually might have been something wrong. "Do you think maybe perhaps that the scary movie you just watched might have gotten you a bit on edge?"

"I'm serious! I really heard someone over there, and I live alone! It's got to be a ghost. After I wake up, I'm heading over to England's and force him to do an exorcism or something."

That did sound a bit eerie. "I'll try to be careful, then."

"Good because I don't need another person disappearing." America got off the couch and shuffled his feet off to his bedroom.

"Wait! America..." He was gone already. What did he mean "another?" Somebody had disappeared already? No wonder he hadn't slept! I'd be scared out of my mind! I AM scared out of my mind. He really can't expect me to clean this place by myself with something like that here!

That's when my OCD kicked in. I always cleaned when i was nervous or scared. thats why i was such a good worker at Russia's house. I cleaned every nook and cranny until it shined. Not that it would really be that appreciated. I really doubt America paid attention to the decorative carvings on the legs of his coffee table based on the layer of dust that had gathered. I was cleaning faster than I ever had before. Darn it, I had wanted to drag out this last day out for as long as possible. I really didn't want to go back to Russia's place, but what choice did I have?

I was running out of rooms to clean. I was seriously considering venturing to the north side. The ghost couldn't be nearly as scary as Russia was. At least, that's what I would tell myself. I guess Russia hadn't really made anyone disappear, but they were as good as gone. You became indistinguishable. Like you never existed in the first place.

Oh wait! I almost forgot! The kitchen! That wasn't on the north side, and there was sure to be lots of things to clean in there! I practically skipped to the door of the kitchen, glad that my feet had somewhere less dangerous to wander to.

The door swung open easier than I expected. I thought it usually had more resistance than that. I remember it was like a gust of wind before the impact. And then BANG! I had blinked for just a second and I was on the floor. I screamed. My chest grew warm and sticky. How was this happening? Ghosts weren't supposed to physically maim someone. It just had to be. I had the most rotten luck.

"Oh maple...I-I am...so so sorry...I didn't think...oh, what am I supposed to do? Merde..."

I blinked a few times, trying to assess the situation through my initial panic. I was alright. I wasn't even hurt. A few feet away stood a guy looking rather nervous and flustered. His violet eyes shifted from me to other objects on the floor from behind his glasses. Such items included a plate and a few floppy pancakes. My hand went to my chest. Syrup. Maple syrup.

We must have run into each other and gotten ourselves into this sticky situation. The stranger ran his fingers through his medium length blond hair. A single curl escaped his grasp and hovered a few inches in front of his face. As I looked closer, he kind of looked like someone I knew. Had I met him before? I don't think so. It must be because he sort of looks like America.

"It's alright. A little syrup isn't going to kill me. I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm the one who ruined your breakfast," I said. I tried to rub the syrup that was on my hands on to some part of my shirt that wasn't soaked in the sticky stuff.

His eyes widened. He looked from me to directly behind him and back again. He pointed to his face.

"Uh...excuse me...but were you talking to me?" he said with a confused expression on his face. His voice was soft, sort of like a whisper. A voice that drew you in to listen closer in fear of missing a single word.

I looked with him, rather confused with his confusion. Who else could I be talking to? "I really am sorry about the pancakes. I bet they would have been delicious."

Suddenly, his face was a foot in front of mine. He was squatted in front of me and leaned closer.

"Can...Can you really see me?" he breathed.

AN: I was only planning this story to be a oneshot, but then I thought, eh, why not take my time. I really hope you're enjoying so far! If you are, please leave me a review! If not, you can still leave me a review. I'm not too picky :)