Sipping on his coke, he made his way down the road. The self-proclaimed 'Hero' found himself in front of a hotel. He remembered England said something about staying in a 'crappy American hotel.' Thinking back on it, America had noticed something odd about England. The normally loud blonde was very quiet. In fact he hadn't said a word to anyone. Not even when France trash-talked his scones!
America thought a friendly visit was in order. Just to make sure that his crush was okay. Yes America had a crush on England. It shouldn't be called a simple crush though. England meant more to him than anything! He had tried flirting countless times, and always asked England to spend that night at his house, but nothing ever happened besides that.
Maybe England just didn't love our America. Pshh, naww. Even if he didn't, America would find a way. Now back to the American's current predicament. Said American was walking up the stairs, the third floor. He could sense England on the third floor, in the last room towards the end of the hallway. You see, because they were countries they had a type of sixth sense that let them locate powerful countries if they were near by. Quite useful for stalking your love, in America's case.
America didn't know why but he was gettting a bad feeling. And very bad feeling. The feeling you get when you have to take an important test in school and you know you didn't study. Yes in fact, the feeling had gotten so bad that America had broken out into a cold sweat. He had made it to the door where England was currently situated in. He'd never admit it out loud, but he was scared. Scared about what he would find beyond this door.
Hearing a crash on the other side, he didn't hesitate to barge in. Once inside the overwhelming aroma of smoke hit his senses. His eyes dangerously narrowed, he knew that England didn't smoke. His eyes landed on tall figure with shagging red hair and piercing green eyes. Piercing green eyes that look oddly familiar...
"Ello' there lad. What can I do fer ye?" The man said in a thick Scottish accent. So this was the human personification of Scotland? America's eyes darted around trying to locate England. He could feel him in the next room. The only problem was that Scotland was currently blocking the entrance to said room.
"Ye know, it be rude ta not knock." Once again Scotland spoke, annoyance obvious in his tone. Finally after what seemed hours America spoke, "Where's England?" He was giving off a menacing aura like that of Russia. If Scotland was intimidated, he hid it well. "Oh that whalluper*? Let's just say I put tha' ya bas* in his place." Poor America had no idea what Scotland meant but he knew that it wasn't good. He stalked up to Scotland and calmly stated,
"If you hurt England-no, if you hurt my Arthur in any way, I won't hesitate to kill you." The clouds from outside cast a shadow that covered America's face only showing one blue eye as he smiled a crazy smile.*
Just as Scotland was going to retort, a yelp was heard from the room. It almost sounded like "help!" America's eyes left Scotland's form in order to stare at the door. His once crazy smile quickly turned into a scowl. Scotland once again tried to speak but was interrupted by a fist colliding with his face. America heard a statisfactory snap from Scotland's nose, as he drew his now bloody fist back.
"Bampot!*" America heard Scotland yell as he clutched his broken and bloody nose. Knocking down the door with his shoulder, he saw England's trembling form. He couldn't run fast enough. He scooped England into his arms and cradled him. Cradled him exactly how England would back when he was just a colony. Arthur screamed and kicked. Thrasing about as he continued to scream,
"Stop it! No more! I'm sorry." With all of his thrashing about, America lost his balance and fell on his rump. As England landed back into his arms, he quickly shot up with a pained howl.
"It's okay, Eng-Arthur. I'm here now and I won't let him hurt you anymore." England looked up and America swore that his heart broke in two. Englands face consisted of mulitiple bruises, a black eye, many cigarrette burn marks and blood was smeared all over his face. After England saw America he couldn't help but bury his face in those arms that made him feel safe, and sobb what was left of his poor heart. He had been hurt worse than this. But the emotional toll that it took on his heart was worse than any other pain he had ever experienced.
Not only had he been beaten, and broken. He had also been stolen of his innocence. The innocence he planned to give to his special country. Because you see England also loved America. He was too stubborn and scared to admit it but it was true. His big brother Scotland knew this and it angered him. So he'd have his way with England till his old heart was satisfied.
Speaking of Scotland, we see him walking away from the Hotel, holding his bleeding nose with one hand. The other was clenched in a fist. After this Scotland knew he'd be seen as scum. Scum that raped and beat their siblings. But it wasn't like that. He was just a poor soul who fell in love with the wrong person. And it hurt to know that the love of his life would fear- if not hate- him for the rest of his unnatural life. Hate him because after years of war, Scotland didn't know who to love. Only to hurt.