America listened to the droning silence of England's house, contemplating how different and similar it was. Everything about his house was different— England had refurnished the entire house and repainted everything since America had left. It was like he didn't want to remember America at all.
America wandered through the halls. He still knew exactly which room was his, exactly which rooms he hadn't been able to go into.
Not that any of the rooms were his, he corrected. Not anymore.
He opened one of the doors. "Yo, England! You in here?"
England sighed. "America, I said you could stay over. Not interrupt my work." England muttered. America watched, peering over his shoulder as England signed another paper.
England sighed and stood up. "What, are you hungry? If so, I made some scones."
"Ha! For your food? No way, dude!" America said. "But why'd you change up your house so much?"
England stiffened. "Merely because it was unsafe, America. I have had this house for a couple hundred years. Of course I'd need to replace lead paint and moldy furniture."
"Oh, I see!" America chimed.
England went downstairs, and America followed him.
"America, you should get some sleep." England said. "You've been awake for, what, the past eighteen hours now?"
America made a face. "Ah, you don't want to talk to me?" He asked.
"It's not that. I just really think you should get some sleep." England said. "Would you like some tea first?"
"Um... Sure, Iggy." America sat at the dinner table, smiling brightly. He was humming his national anthem, drumming his fingers on the wood.
England paused, before reaching for tea. America quietly noted that England grabbed two different types.
England made the tea, strangely quiet. Usually, England might curse at him. Now, however, he was completely silent. It made America uncomfortable, so he hummed even louder.
England was about to put the other tea bag in the second steaming cup of water. He sighed, his hand freezing for a moment, before he returned with the cups of tea, a tight smile placed upon his lips.
"Um, are you okay?" America asked. England stiffened even more, if possible, before relaxing. "Seriously. Dude?"
"Yes, yes. Everything is fine, America. Hurry up and drink your tea so you can go to sleep and leave me alone."
He must really hate me, huh? America thought, frowning. He brought the tea to his lips, taking a drink. He didn't quite remember what it was called, but it was his favorite tea from when he was younger. "Aw, you made me my favorite!" He smiled again.
"Yes, I suppose I did."
America finished the rest of the tea, before going upstairs. England watched him climb the stairs before sitting in the dining room, frowning and finishing his tea.
It took America awhile to fall asleep. He listened to the silence once again. England was acting weird, and he didn't know why. Was it something I did? No, that can't be right. He's acting weird... in a different way than usual.
When America finally did fall asleep, he fell into a rather horrid nightmare.
"Wait, don't go yet!" America tugged on England's sleeve.
England swatted his hand away. "I have to go, you know that." He bent down, taking America's right hand in both of his. "I'll be back soon, alright?"
"But I'll be so lonely without you! Why can't you take me with you?"
England grimaced. "America, you know that this doesn't concern you, surely. You should hang out with your own people."
"But they're all so unhappy!"
"Cheer them up." England stood up.
"Please don't go yet!" America could feel his throat closing.
England sighed. "Come on, America, don't cry. I have other business to attend to." More important than me, America thought.
"I-I know, but—," America cut himself off when England turned around to look at him again. "But I'll really, really miss you!"
"You'll be fine. Don't worry, I'll miss you too." England said monotonously. He left.
America was alone.
He didn't get it. He didn't get why England couldn't stay. He only saw England once a month at best, but he hated being by himself.
He wandered around his house. England's house was rather large, though he was rarely ever there to maintain it. It was like he purposefully avoided America. The house was warm, with a plentiful supply of food and water. It was childproofed, and filled with comfortable things. But nobody was there.
America could feel the tears rising, and he wiped them away furiously. Does England just hate me? Maybe it was something I did. Maybe I could make it better.
America went upstairs. It was getting late, he was very tired. He laid in bed. He was alone. Nobody was ever there, and he was always alone, completely alone, alone, alone.
America woke up, frowning. He didn't like thinking of his childhood. It made him upset everytime he thought about it, and bitter.
England was still downstairs. America decided he would check on England. After all these years, America still felt like England was purposefully avoiding him.
"England?" America asked.
"Oh, I didn't know you were still awake." England yawned. "What is it, America?"
America sat next to him. He didn't do anything. He just sat there, staring ahead. "America?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to sit here for awhile."
"Well, you can do that. I'm going to go to—," England stood up, but America tugged on his sleeve.
"Don't go yet. Please, just a few more minutes." America said quietly.
For once, England stayed. For the millionth time, England thought about how much he missed America.