It's the last day of summer…(at least for me), so I guess I'm feeling a bit mushy and nostalgic… Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

The reddening sun was just visible on the horizon as she sat watching his ship sail away across the ocean. A soft breeze gently passed by, blowing strands of her hair out of its pigtails and ruffling the small flower she held in her hands. It had been a beautiful day: clear and sunny, but she almost wished there had been a storm- this perfect weather made it even harder to say goodbye, more tempting to plead with him to stay just one more day.

As she watched the ship swiftly cut through the cobalt sea her thoughts wandered back to earlier in the day, while they had been walking slowly down the sandy shoreline upon which she was currently standing.

Once again he had asked and she had considered going with him back to his home, back to England. She knew that was what he wanted, despite his attempts to seem nonchalant.

"You would adjust." he told her as they made their way down the beach, "They would give you a place in the court. Then you would never be separated from me."

They both knew it was a hopeless cause. The tightly constrained English lifestyle was no place for a free spirited island girl. Seychelles needed to feel the sand between her toes, smell the fresh air, and see the blue sky overhead. The cold, polluted darkness of England would only depress her, the lifestyle confuse her, and the people isolate her. She could tell that England knew this deep down, but the selfish side of him that wanted her to stay with him continued to make him bring up the subject, in hopes that maybe one day she would change her mind.

They both stopped walking and stared at the men loading cargo onto England's ship. Though the process had taken most of the day they were now almost finished; it would be less than ten minutes until they could depart. Seychelles turned to look at the man beside her; he wore an expression somewhere between annoyance and trepidation, as though he wanted to say something but was embarrassed to bring it up.

"What's wrong?"

"…I don't know how long I'll be gone," he began slowly, still avoiding her curious gaze, "It could be months, years… I don't want you to think that you shouldn't socialize with others, but…" he trailed off.

"Do you honestly think I'm going to leave you for someone else? That someone's going to steal me away?" she said, half surprised and half amused.

"It could happen," he mumbled, a slight blush spreading on his cheeks, "with you being, well, you." He finally turned to face her, his emerald eyes filled with determination.

"Stay away from France and Spain." He commanded sternly, his voice reverting to its normal tone. "I don't like them; I don't like the way they look at you."

She laughed at his protectiveness, stepping closer to him until their faces were inches apart.

"Don't worry; the French and Spanish aren't really my type. Too romantic." She kissed him on the cheek. "I prefer stuffy Englishmen."

She felt him place something in her hand as she continued to look at him. It was a small flower; its color the exact shade of green as his eyes.

"It's beautiful! Thank you." Gingerly she felt the soft petals.

"It's not much, but I want you to have something to remember me by. When I come back, I'll bring you something even better."

He took her other hand in his own as he continued to speak.

"I'll return as soon as I can. I love you Seychelles. More than anything, I love you." He gently pressed his lips against hers. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about anything else, to remember exactly how she felt at that moment. She knew he was doing the same.

They both wanted that last kiss to last a lifetime.

Seychelles could still feel his hand on hers; feel his presence, even though the ship was now nothing more than a tiny dot among the crashing waves.

She waited until she couldn't see the vessel anymore, and even after the sun had disappeared beneath the waves and the only light shining was that of the full moon she sat there on the beach. The waves gently lapped at her bare feet as the tide rose, and she felt a tear run down her cheek.

The morning sun would find her still lying on the beach, clutching the flower to her chest and dreaming of him.