Anyway, I don't own Hetalia. This could be taken as USUK, but probably only by USUK fans. If you don't ship it you won't see anything.

Dear England,

Just writing to say how you been? I'm doing great. Were developing new curency and it's going to be time for another election soon. Elections are so exciting, I love democracy! Better democracy than monarchy, right? Just kidding. (maybe) Are you ever going to visit me? Canada and France and even Prussia have all come to see how I'm doing but you haven't… I know I'm not your little brother anymore, I said it myself, but were still friends right? Are you going to write back?

-The United States of America.

Alfred folded up the letter carefully. He wondered if it was alright. He hadn't wanted to sound needy or like he missed England or anything. Because he wasn't, and he didn't.

Not at all.

England grew angrier and angrier as he read America's letter. The nerve, the gall, the insufferable conceited twit! He thought he could just rub his success and his good fortune and his stupid government in England's face like that? He thought they could be friends? After he'd ripped him apart with his bloody independence?

He tried to ignore the other feelings he was having. Embarrassment, the boy had seen him so weak, reduced to tea- to nothing at the end of the war. Pleasure, the smallest hint of pleasure that America had been thinking about him…

Annoyance. Yes, England thought, focusing on the word. Annoyance. Alfred had always annoyed him in some small way. He it was again, on paper. A badly written paper. Really, there were just so many things wrong with that first sentence! And "curency"? Had he learnt anything?

And idea suddenly came to him. He picked up his pen, a slightly evil smile forming on his face, and attacked the note.

There. That would show the brat a thing or two.

"It's nice to see you again, Matthew."

"It's nice to see you, too, England." Canada shifted awkwardly in his seat. He had never felt close to England like America had…

"How are you?"

"Fine…" Speaking of America… "But Alfred is a little upset about your, um, response to his letter." He recalled the conversation with his brother.

"He hates me, Mattie!"

"He doesn't hate you…"

"Matt. He corrected my letter. In red ink! Like it was an essay or something…"

The Canadian sighed. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know, talk to him. He actually likes you. 'Cause you're still wasting your time with him."

"…I'll see what I can do."

"-a bloody fool. The only reason he… left... is because he's too selfish to pay taxes and too big-headed to see that I'm right."

Canada came out of his reverie and listened to the last bit of England's rant. "Yes, I suppose so..."

"Thank God you aren't like that."

Oh, maple. He swallowed. "Actually… this might be a bad time to tell you this, but…" He pulled out a few sheets of paper and held them out in England's general direction, avoiding his eye. "I have the document here, you'd just have to sign it..."

"What's going on here?" England demanded, his voice rising a bit.

Canada attempted a weak smile. "I'm requesting independence, too."

England stood in front of Matthew, utterly shocked Then before he knew what he was doing, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the house.

He walked quickly, holding back tears. It was all Alfred's fault. He'd gotten away, grown up (why did he have to grow up?), and now Matthew was doing it, too.

He felt like he was losing, losing his colonies, losing everything he'd been working for, losing at a game he hadn't known he was playing. He was falling, everyone was leaving.

Why? Why did everyone leave him?

England stopped in front of a pub. He laughed bitterly and stepped inside. He need a place to sleep anyway (there was no way in hell he was going back to Canada's house), and apparently, he no longer had any tedious children to look after. Why not?

Why not?

…Why?

Canada looked out the window and sighed. It was getting dark. He wondered if England was alright. He wondered if England would ever speak to him again. He wondered what he should do about the independence request.

Maybe it would be best to just apologise to England, drop the whole matter, set his document aside and put it off… For how long? Another century? He groaned. That wasn't what he wanted. He had gotten older and smarter, and he didn't need England's guidance anymore.

Maybe he could start a war. War. It hadn't really occurred to him. He thought of America, who'd said to him just days ago, "You have to man up. Fight for your freedom!"

Freedom. It sounded nice, but it was really more of an Alfred term, perpetually accompanied by an exclamation point. Besides, he wasn't at all sure he would be strong enough to win a war. Granted, he wasn't much weaker than his brother had been, but Alfred was strong in spirit and resilience.

He sighed again, turning from the window, and picked up Kumajiro. Maybe he should just sleep on it.

"Stupid… Al-Alfred." England took another swig of his drink, falling sideways before righting himself. "Stupid Matthew. Stupid… stupid perverted frog. Stupid Prussian. Stupid Spaniard. Stupid Scot. Stupid, stupid… I'm so stupid." He banged his head on the tabletop. "Ow… stupid table. Revenge…" Bang. "Ow." Bang. "Ow." Bang. "Why does it hurt so much?" He wailed.

"It's made of wood, hoser!" Someone called from across the room.

"Bollocks, it is…" He mumbled. "It's made of paper… Stupid paper…" His head hit the table a fifth time. "Ow…"

Page break

Canada didn't hear from England for another week, until out of the blue, he received a telegram.

Fine. Stop. I don't care. Stop. I'll sign your damn paper. Stop.

End message.

Source for the picture wooooooo finally: post/78314922555/pixiv-id-4629504-for-bigger-image-size-please

It's right under the picture~

So yes. Reviews make my day.