"'Cause I'm the hero!" America shouted at the end of the table, his fist in the air, and the same obnoxiously wide happy grin on his face like usual.

"Oh, shut up America," England sighed from across the table rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration at the annoyingly loud American.

"Ohonhonhon." France laughed in his seat beside England, adding to the Brits headache.

Germany stood up while gathering his stuff, "That is the end of the meeting."

"Ve~ Germany, let's go get some pasta!" Italy cheered, latching on to the German's arm; it's become such a common thing that no one thought twice, or gave a sparing glance, of it.

Germany blushed at the little Italian and looked away, nodding a yes to the young boy. England got up as well and many Nations headed out the door. Canada on the other hand walked to where Russia was still sitting, waiting for everyone to leave before he too, got up and went home. They watched as all the drama unfolded.

America on the other hand ran up to England, slinging an arm around his shoulders, "Come on dude, let's go get a burger." The American seemed so happy that it almost seemed forced. That annoying smile and voice just seemed agonizing to pay attention to. His smile was far too wide to seem natural his laughter was so loud that it made the people around his cringe.

England wasn't as happy as America though, he was quite the opposite actually; he picked America's arm up with his fingers as if it was something disgusting and let it fall by the American's side.

"No, I'm afraid I have other plans." England easily rejected the poor American.

America just wouldn't take no for an answer however; he kept insisting that England go with him to McDonald's, and England kept saying no as politely as he could. They were now in the parking lot by England's black car, and England was standing by the bumper when he whirled on the happy American.

"No, America, I do not want to eat a burger with you, go home!" England yelled furiously, his face stricken with frustration.

Here's the thing about happy people; they usually break worse than others. For a lot of people, being overly happy is just something they have done since they were little and have come so accustomed to being 'happy' that they don't know when they are faking it and when it's real so they just assume it's always genuine happiness.

For better explanation of the situation; America doesn't care about insults or anything; most Americans don't. This can cause people to get upset that they can't bother him. Right now tho, America is reaching out to England for help. Of course he would never actually ask for help; he has to much pride for that, so instead he ask him to go eat with him. America is under a lot of stress during this time and England doesn't know that Alfred is just reaching out for some free, relaxation time, so he rejects helping him.

You see, at this point America just stood with his mouth gaped open, wanting to speak but not having any words to say. The young blonde was in utter shock that the Englishmen was yelling at him- usually he had more restraint. You would think that would have been enough and the Englishmen would have driven off by now but no, he kept going.

"You are not the amazing hero you think you are America! You can't save the world no matter how much you want to and to be honest we don't want you involved in our affairs. I wish you were more like your sweet brother Canada and just keep quiet! I wish you would shut your mouth for five seconds and listen to what's going on and stop being so arrogant, seriously the world doesn't revolve around you. Everything you say is rubbish, take some lessons from Matthew and then maybe people would like you!" England was fuming by this time and panting from the long statement with little breath.

The stress is so great on America's shoulders right now that these small words, that on any other day wouldn't hurt him- have a huge impact on his unstable emotions at the moment. Instead of taking a deep breathe Alfred's iron hard skin -that keeps him immune to insults- cracks and begins to crumple around him. Leaving him exposed to the pain of the world and the words of others..

England was so mad that he didn't notice America backing away slowly and he didn't notice the tears that were threatening to spill from his aqua blue eyes. America hears this all the time but for some reason today it hurts more then usual, he knew everyone thought this and he wouldn't care any other day, but day when he needs the help the most this just seems to make the pain all the much more worse.. He especially didn't think England, his father figure from when he was young and one of his friends now would ever be the one to yell it out and throw it in his face. He was beyond hurt; he was devastated at the words spoken to him.

England turned around, still not paying any attention to the boy; he turned on his heels and stormed into his black 1967 Mustang fastback. Throwing it into gear he drove away from the shocked blonde, not looking back. America turned around and ran, the tears that spilled out of his eyes, flying behind him. The wind against his face made the tears sting his checks. He ran all the way to his electric blue Pontiac firebird tans am , he jumped in and drove out of the parking lot as fast as his amazing car would allow him to.

This whole time Canada was watching from the window up stairs, his hands pressed to the delicate glass, he saw the whole scene unfold right before his innocent eyes. He knew everything that was said since he could read lips. His hand came up to his mouth as the other held Kumajiro in his arms. Said bear tilted his head to the side while looking up at his friend. Knowing, sensing that his beloved master was worried and hurt for the hamburger man that was outside.

"Sad," That was all that had to be said- and the bear was right, America was sad and so was Canada.

Canada felt horrible for his brother, having grown up with him; Matthew knows exactly how he would react to this. Considering how bad his economy is doing, the pressure from his boss and the anxiety of his people, and then you add the depression rates that are going up in America; he was bound to go overboard. Canada knew this wouldn't end well, everything was being channeled through Alfred, and it was far too much for the boy to handle.

"I can't believe England said that to poor America." The blonde Canadian quietly spoke to himself, still shocked about what happened and feeling his chest swell up in sympathy for his brother.

"He simply spoke what most of us think." Russia said from over Canada's shoulder, also watching the blonde in front of him and the one that is now on the road.

Russia was smiling his childish smile when Matthew looked over at him. Canada hadn't noticed him and gasped a little, turning around to look back at him.

Maybe the little Canadian was reading too much into the whole situation. Perhaps he was just being too worrisome of his brother; Matthew knew his overly happy, obnoxious brother was going to be ok- just like always; he would bounce back after sulking for a while in his "emo corner" as Alfred would put it. Wouldn't he?

"If you all think that, then why don't any of you tell him?" Canada asked the large scary Russian who only tilted his head slightly smiling.

"Because most of us enjoy it, though we won't admit it, we all rely on America because without him we would fall faster than anyone could snap their fingers. Even though the boy is annoying he amuses most of us." The Russian answered the Canadian's question. "England knows that better than any of us." The Russian was in thought by this point thinking about …whatever it was Russia thinks about. Honestly everyone should be afraid of his thoughts, there're probably just as scary as he was

"So then why would he say it?" Canada looked to the larger man with curiosity as they both turned around to walk out of the beautifully decorated room that they had their meeting in.

"He was mad," Russia smiled, taking hold of Canada's hand loosely as they walked out of the large golden doors.

The Canadian blushed lightly at the contact, still not use to affection Russia gave him so openly. It took poor little Matthew forever to get the white haired man to the point that he would openly admit he was in a relationship with the younger of the two. It shouldn't shock him that Russia would now openly show his affection.

"Are we going to your place?" The Canadian asked yet another question.

Amazingly this didn't bother Ivan; he just smiled down at his lover, staring into his bright eyes that show so much curiosity and knowledge at the same time. Russia is amazed every day at how easily everyone ignores this beautiful boy. Granted, he used to as well- he never noticed the poor Canadian until he looked into those eyes that were so gem like, he can never look away and can find him so easily in any crowd. Ivan finds himself craving those majestic eyes.

"Da," Was the simple answer the Russian gave his adorable Canadian boyfriend.

"Food," Kumajiro added as the group laughed and went to Russia's mansion of a house.

Now back to our typical blonde American; he has been driving for a few minutes wallowing in his sadness which coincidently turned into hours without him noticing. Looking at the clock on the radio (that was blasting out rock music), the American let out a long sigh, feeling numb inside. He slowed his pace and drove home.

The car went down the drive way and pulled to a stop in front of the two story brick house. America did everything as if on auto-pilot, just going through the motions, he climbed out of the car and walked numbly to the house. Walking to the door itself felt like an eternity, once inside the house, America sat on the plush couch, putting his head in his hands.

"How could he even say such a thing?" The broken boy mumbled to himself. He just couldn't understand it.

America couldn't get over what England had said to him. Not for the first time, America felt utterly alone, he felt as if everyone had abandoned him and would never come back. The saddest part is that he didn't blame them either, they were probably better off without him.

These are the thoughts that broke America's hold on his emotions, he cried out alone, wishing something would stop him from feeling this way. The Great America let his icy tears slide from his eyes like a river, with his hands trying to act as a dam to block them, rubbing excessively at the bottom of his eyes as if that would stop them from falling . He finally gave up and knew he was broken; his hands fell down as he stayed hunched over, watching his tears splash against the hardwood floors.

The crying finally stopped, but only because there was no more water in his body to create the tears he so desperately wanted to let out. The salty tears were the only thing helping him feel better, even they left him with nothing but puffy eyes and trails down his cheeks to prove they were there.

He just sat there for ten minutes replaying what was said to him; over and over. It ran through his head like a song set on repeat; a horrible song that makes you feel the truth but also makes you made at the fact as well; so much that you just want to stop it from playing but can't figure out how.

Then an idea struck him; if everyone is better off without me then why am I still here? America's heart was broken, and the numbness made him feel as if his spirit was broken as well. America wanted to die, and that was what he felt he needed to do to make the people he loved happy.

This is what will make them happy. This is the last act as a hero that he will do, to save all of their sanity from his absurdity.

So America walked to the kitchen, grabbed a large knife, a pen, and some paper. America would write an apology letter to all of the other countries, telling them he was extremely sorry and that he wishes them well.

He would do it- he will die today.

with England

England had been driving without thinking, just letting the car steer itself, he needed to go somewhere but wasn't sure where anymore. All the Englishmen could think about was how he had snapped at America. He was just so stressed, his economy was crap, his leaders were jerks, and France was over bearing, so he took it all out on poor America. The lad didn't deserve it in any form of fashion, he just happened to be in the way when the fuse met its end. That fuse was England's anger, and he couldn't stop from exploding; he should have done more to keep himself calm.

England knew more than anybody that America was really sensitive. He would never let anybody know, but when everyone ignored him or laughed at him, America would always feel bad, as if everyone was picking on him. It didn't matter how much that boy smiled, he worried about everything all the other countries worried about too. He might say stupid things sometimes, but because of those stupid things he says while he goofs off, no one took him seriously during those rare times that he was serious.

Everyone has a way to deal with stress; each country has a special way that helps them to deal with things. France gets really perverted, Russia will act childish, England will act like a jerk, Canada will become more invisible than normal, and poor America acts like a complete idiot when he is stressed. Now, it's a different kind of idiotism then him just goofing off- ,it's hard to explain but it is different. He uses himself as comic relief for the others; he truly believed he could save them all.

England knew that he needed to go apologize to the lad before he did something stupid. With his mind made up, the Englishman looked around, allowing himself to become aware of his surroundings. He noticed he was already pulling into America's yard- at least his mind already knew where to go before he actually decided on it.

Jumping out of his car that seemed to blend into the night, England walked up to the door, knocking lightly. Hearing nothing, the Englishmen deicide to knock again, only a little harder. Yet again he got no reply; this confused the green eyed man because usually America would answer the door after the first knock with so much enthusiasm that he knocked the Briton over. Concern began to grip at England's heart, his hands started to sweat as he lightly pushed the door open, walking inside when he found the door was unlocked.

"America?" England called out to the dark house, his voice echoing against the blue painted walls.

Nothing came as the young man walked past the front hall and when he peeked around the corner he gasped at the sight he saw. England's stomach felt as if it was in his throat, as he let out a strangled cry.

"America!" England ran to the side of the young boy he had taken care off as a small child.

Blood was dripping down the American's wrist from deep gashes that had been carved into his skin. When England walked in, the boy was making the final blow by positioning the blade in his hand at the bottom of his wrist so he could drag it along up to his elbow. The first few gashes, England assumed, were just there to cause him pain, the punishment he felt he needed.

England ran over to the blonde boy, jerking the blade out of his shaking hand, and throwing the bloody knife to the ground across the room so he couldn't reach it. America looked up at the Englishmen at first with shock, and then tears began to fall down his face as he realized who was before him. England could feel the guilt gripping at his soul, knowing he was the one to push the poor boy to this drastic of a thing.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, lad?" England had now begun to cry along with the boy, his tears dripped down his cheek; hitting the tiled floor beneath the both of them.

"I…I wanted to…. I just thought." America was stumbling over his words as the tears streamed down his face; he was unable to comprehend what had just happened.

He wanted to explain to England why he had to do it, but every reason he came up with didn't seem good enough. The blue eyed male didn't know how to make him understand, he had no idea what to do.

"You just though what?" The Englishmen asked, standing up and staring down at the boy with a mixture of sorrow and anger, "That you would kill yourself?" England felt frantic as he looked at the boy he loved more than anything, his voice cracking at the end.

"None of you like me anyways, you said so yourself. I can't be the hero that saves everyone, it doesn't matter how hard I try! You told me I was just a nuisance and annoying and I'm a waste of space!" America yelled standing up to stare at the man in front of him, "If I die then maybe all of you would finally be happy!" His rant ended in a whisper as he looked to the ground in defeat.

America's fists shook uncontrollably as he tried to calm himself, all of his emotions churning inside of him. The tears he thought he could no longer cry were now flooding his eyes, causing his vision to blur. England stared at him with his arms crossed, shaking his head in a disapproving fashion, saddened eyes staring at the boy before him- the happy boy he watched grow up to be strong and willful.

"I never said you were a nuisance or that you were a waste of space, lad. And who would be happy if you died?" England walked over to the American guiding him to sit on the couch, sitting beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Everyone would, even I would be happy if I died." He murmured through his tears, leaning onto the Englishmen's shoulder in despair.

"I would be devastated and so would your brother Matthew. It doesn't matter anyways, you can't die unless your country is destroyed and forgotten. If you committed suicide you would just come back to life, that's what it means to be a country's representative." England scolded the boy, while wrapping his arm around his shoulders in a comforting hug.

"I want to die." America whispered sadly finally losing everything as he cried out to the Englishmen who was slightly taken aback.

When America was young he would act like a hero, just as he does now. Though when he got scared, he would run to England for protection and cry in his arms. Sometimes he would get so scared he would sleep in England's bed, proclaiming that if he slept alone, the evil monsters would come out and get him, because England wasn't there to stop them.

These memories caused the Englishmen to smile slightly before remembering the severity of his once son's state- he tightened his grip on the boys shoulder, wanting more than anything for him to calm down and get it together.

The American couldn't take it anymore; he turned toward the Englishmen beside him and threw himself into his arms, bawling. All of America's sorrow came out onto the Englishmen's now soaked shirt as he hugged the boy and leaned back, lying on the couch. He laid there with America on top of him, rubbing his back with his right hand while the other wrapped around his waist to hold him close, making sure he didn't break anymore and staying in the loving embrace.

"Look at it this way America; the rest of us need you. Without you, we would all fall within seconds- so fast the world wouldn't even know what happened. You are the hero of the world, even if the rest of us won't admit it, we know it's true." England smiled at the boy on top of him, now petting his head lightly.

America lifted his head up to look at the Englishman's deep green eyes, "Really?" He sniffled.

"Yes America, you are the hero." England smiled at the blonde boy.

England sat up and pulled the boy he loved so much onto his lap. America pressed his face into England's shoulder as the last of his tears fell from his eyes. England leaned into the American's blonde hair, the sweet smell making him relax.

England pushed the boy gently out of his lap so he could stand. As he stood, he took America's hand and led him to the bathroom to clean the wounds on the boy's wrists.

"Let's get this cleaned up then we shall go to sleep, okay?" England turned on the water in the sink, letting his fingers stay under it.

The blonde Englishmen washed away the blood, the red looking like a dye in the water as it splashed against the sink. Taking some peroxide, he poured a good amount on the wounds so as to clean the cuts, causing the boy to jump a little at the sting he felt from the liquid. America watched it bubble up with no apparent emotions. After the cuts were cleaned and wrapped in bandages, England gave it a kiss as he was finished, just for good measure. America looked absolutely exhausted as he leaned against the Englishmen, his eyes fighting to stay open.

England smiled and picked the boy up in his arms to carry him upstairs. On any other day America would have protested and yelled that he was the hero, so he would carry England instead, but not tonight- the poor blue eyed boy was too tired to even notice. Instead, he just leaned into England's chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and let his eyes flutter closed. He felt every bounce of his friend's feet as England carried him up the stairs.

Even though he was a lot heavier then he remembered, England carried the American all the way to the bed, pulling the covers over his body after dropping him on the matters with a light thud. The man then turned to walk out of the room but America wouldn't let go of his hand where it had been throughout the entire time, as if losing the warmth of his hand would mean death for him, and England couldn't say he minded.

Looking at the clock to see it was already nine o clock, England decided it would be best if stayed here and made sure America was alright. He would need to change the bandages in the middle of the night as well, so it would be a waste of gas for him leave and come back. He crawled into bed with America, wrapping his arms around the waist of the boy beside him, keeping him close, and protecting him like he did so long ago.

"I love you America, more then you could ever know." England whispered into the American boy's ear.

America snuggled close to him, craving the body heat and comfort, "I know, 'cause I love you to."

The two boys snuggled close to each other, relishing in this moment as rain began to pitter-patter on the roof, like a natural lullaby that lasted throughout the night.

Even though they will act like it never happened around the others, this will be a moment that will stay with them forever. They both knew they loved each other, and they are at this very moment content with the situation. America will not kill himself; because he is the hero that will save everyone, even if he has to do it one person at a time, and England will help the boy as he has done since he was little.

This is the love they share for each other; the same love from when they were younger, the same love that a father has for his son, and the same love that friends have for each other.

Thanks a lot for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it. I would; like to thank Artificial Star Light for beta-reading this. You're a big help, I appreciate it. Well people I hope you people have a good day and I would to explain that I was going for more of a father-son relationship with a mix of best friends between America and England and not Yaoi.