England took one step through the door and was immediately tackled by little America. He looked up at England, his head midway between his knee and waist, with bright eyes and a big smile. England laughed, patting his head before lifting him up. "Well hello there!"
America wrapped his arms around England's neck, rubbing his cheek against England's. "I missed you! You were gone a long time!"
"I was only gone for a month," England chuckled, carrying the young colony into the kitchen where he then set him down, and started making dinner.
America looked at him very seriously, his brow furrowed, "That is a long time." England simply shook his head, a small smile on his face.
After a moment, America spoke quietly. "England, how long are you staying this time? 'Cause I really don't want you to leave again." England stopped, looking over his shoulder. America was staring at him, eyes wide with wonder and…sadness. England walked over to him, setting him in his lap, and hugging him close.
"I don't know, America. But you know that I only leave because I have to. There are other colonies that I have to make sure are okay."
America sighed. "I know…But I wish I could have you all to myself! I love you, England."
"What!" England exclaimed. The kind nodded his head.
"I'm afraid it's true. America has decided that it wants to succeed from us; they want to be independent." He handed a letter out to England. "Here is the official document they sent over."
"Declaration of Independence?" England read the title aloud. He scanned through the first part quickly, catching phrase such as "institute new government", "long train of abuses", and "their right, it is their duty to throw off such Government".
He let his head fall, his hair hiding his eyes. His hands were shaking with anger, and it took every ounce of willpower to make them stop and stand calmly before the king.
England cleared his throat. "Your highness, I request that I take this document to my study to read it further, and examine it more closely." He king nodded his head, and England bowed, leaving the room.
Once he got to his study, he set the papers down on his desk. He pulled out blank parchment and ink, intent on writing a letter to America. But when he tried to write, he found that his hands were shaking again. He didn't notice the tears streaming down his face until the plopped onto the papers in front of him.
"That damn, bloody fool," he muttered to himself. "How could he do this! After everything I did for him… Saving him from that perverted frog, taking care of him, raising him… This is how he repays me? By… declaring independence?" He stood up, and began pacing around the room.
"If he wants to act so tough, then so be it! He'll learn the hard way what it means to become a country. I'll be damned before I let this insolent child stand up to me this way! He'll rue the day the thought of rebellion even crossed his mind!"
America stood across from him, weapon raised, a whole army behind him. 'How could this possibly be that same innocent boy?' England thought. America was now taller than England, and instead of that look at wonderment and excitement England was so used to seeing in his eyes, there was determination.
"Sorry, England, but I'm gonna choose freedom! I'm not a little kid anymore, and I'm not your little brother. As of right now, I'm declaring my independence."
"I won't allow it!" England shouted. He raised his own weapon. "You don't have the strength to stand on your own!" He ran towards America, gun pointed up, but America blocked it with his own gun. America's gun was thrown to the side. All it would take was one shot…one shot from England, and everything would be over. America would remain his colony.
But then they made eye contact. And in the matter of seconds, England no longer saw the dirty, soaked, rebelling America in front of him. All he saw was the brand new colony, so tiny, so helpless. He remembered fighting with France over this energetic little colony. And he knew then.
"I…I can't do it…" Slowly, England lowered his weapon. "You…bloody fool." He fell to his knees, letting his head fall into his hands. He didn't care that his pants were now completely soiled; he didn't even care that he was crying in front of America for the first time ever. "Why, dammit?"
"England…" America said quietly. There was sadness in his voice, and a maturity that England didn't know he possessed. "You used to be so big…"
England let the glass fall back onto the counter. "Another round," he said. The bartender looked at him for a moment, as if he considered cutting him off, but decided that money is money. Who was he to deny the bar some more income?
Usually when these memories started to resurface, all it took was an hour at some random pub in London, and England would be blissfully making a fool out of himself, with no memory of anything that next morning.
This marked the sixth hour he'd been here and yet those painful memories, the ones he tried so hard to suppress, bubbled up, one after another. He had hoped drowning himself in alcohol would fix it, but he hadn't had any luck thus far.
It was times like these when he truly hated himself. He hated how pathetic he was. He hated that he had to rely on alcohol to keep from going mad on nights like this. He hated how weak he was back then. He hated how stupid he was. He hated that stupid frog.
And he hated how he could never hate America.
The truth was that America was the cause of his depression. America was the reason he spent night after night in pubs like this one. It's because of America that England isn't happy.
Yet he can never bring himself to actually hate the other country—the colony that was once his, that he let slip through his fingers.
Yeah, I don't really like the ending. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!
My first attempt at something not...fluffy. How'd I do?
Inspiration came from the song "The Silence" by Mayday Parade. I love love love love that song. As I listened, certain verses would stick out, and these scenes were born.
So... Please review! I love getting constructive critism.