Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia
Arthur sighed, staring at the head currently in his lap.
Why was the world so cruel?
He remembered the days when Alfred was but a mere child, unperturbed by the troubles of his not-yet-a-nation.
Oh, how he wished he could turn back the clock to those bygone times...to when his son did not try to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone.
Being the personification of a world superpower was grueling, but it was the "alone" that had gotten to Arthur when Alfred showed up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, intoxicated and in tears.
Arthur had let him in - of course he had, what kind of a father would he be if he didn't? - and Alfred had proceeded to go on a long, tear- filled, emotionally exhausted rant about masks and - and responsibility.
And it hurt Arthur to listen to it, it really did. Because Alfred hawasn't alone, and he didn't have to bear the burden of the world - that's why there were representatives for each and every country. Hed made sure to to tell Alfred that.
In fact, Arthur would make sure Alfred didn't even have to bear the weight of America alone, because he had a family, goddammit! And a family supported each other, and built each other up, made sure each and every member could stand tall and proud and strong!
Arthur picked Alfred up, tucking him into the guest bedroom. Gazing at his son, he couldn't help but clench his fist in anger.
Alfred was nineteen. A mere child. What business did the world have, doing this to a child? A child who had been so bright and happy and cheerful and whole?
The world had no business at all to do it, Arthur decided, and yet...