Yumi- What is this...I dunno...Anyway, I finished this in an hour, so its rubbish, and probably Ooc and not USxUK, so apologies for that. Anyways, I'm tired and happy eve of new years eve...

Bob- *blows a trumpet halfheartedly*

-Changing Autumn-

"Engwand, why do the leaves fall off the trees?"

I remember having asked that. That was a long time ago; back when I cared about what you had to say to me.

What nice things you had to say to me.

I remember you blinking, before smiling a simple smile as you joined me in lying on the grass, under the trees whose colours were fading oranges and browns, and whose branches were almost bare; what didn't remain dying on the tree were strewn across the ground.

That was back when playing and spending time with me wasn't as important as looking refined.

The was grass stains on the back of your shirt; I had made a note of it, giggling to myself about how silly you would look if you had to meet your highness in those clothes. You had warned me about the difficulty that came with removing certain marks from clothes.

I reached out for your hand, pouting when I found that I couldn't reach you without getting up. You just chuckled, scooshing over and taking my hand; to save me the hassle of crawling over, but giving you the hassle of another grass stain on your trousers.

I laughed, reaching the hand for the sky, taking yours halfway with me- my arms were not as long as yours, only about half the length, therefore your elbow still rested comfortably on the ground while I pointed at the sky, momentarily forgetting about my previous outburst, in favour of a new one. "Engwand, what's a cloud?"

You smiled deviously as you propped yourself up with your other hand. "Don't you know, America," you had chuckled, "That clouds are like fluffy castles in the sky for birds and other flying animals. Wish castles on the ground were that fluffy, don't you?"

I pouted. "If Engwand's talking about his magical flying thingies again, they aren't real," I said sourly. You mocked a pout like mine, leaning over me.

"Oh are they not now?" you asked playfully, lowering the hand that was not entwined with mine on to my stomach, grinning impishly as I squealed. "We'll see about that, now, wont we, A-mer-i-ca?"

You tickled me mercilessly, not quitting for my squeals and protests until I managed to roll away from your relentlessly teasing fingers and contented chortling. I picked myself up, brushing off my clothes as I puffed out my cheeks at you.

"Engwand! That wasn't fair! You're m-?"

A leaf fell on my head.

I stared.

And then began to bawl.

I remember seeing your horrified look through my blurry eyes as you scrambled up and jogged over to me, scooping me up in your arms, murmuring apologies and everything under your breath as you rocked me slowly, trying to calm my crying, and succeeding until it was only a sniffle.

"Sorry, are you okay, America?" you asked, looking at me with the hopelessly pathetic look that made me choose you as my carer in the first place.

I shook my head. "Not that. Another leaf fell. Why do the leaves fall, Engwand? I don' wan' them to fall," I sniffled, "I want them to stay the same forever..."

Your eyes softened. "Don't we all, America, don't we all?"

"England, why do you keep giving this to me?"

Maybe because I want it.

"America, please don't start this again. Not today. Please-"

Please please please

"I told you already, I don't like it. Its a waste making it for me, considering it costs so much."

Wow, so much venom for half hearted words.

"You liked it just fine before. America, stop acting like this is my fault."

Are you not angry? You just sound...

"It is your fault."

Sad...

I was your little brother.

Your sweet, innocent little brother.

I could do no wrong.

I hated that

I remember that day just as clearly as the other, if not clearer.

"America, did you read this newspaper?" you had asked me, accusingly, might I add, thrusting the paper in my face when you ran into the kitchen. I ignored you momentarily, pouring my water into my coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar. God knows I was going to need it.

"Well," I said curtly, leaning my head back; the paper was making my eyes blurry because of its closeness, "I couldn't have really. If my mind serves me correctly, you are the one to fetch the newspaper every morning, ridiculously early, when you are here, because, unlike you, I have no interest in reading it every single day and only get the Sunday one. So, no, I have not read the newspaper this morning."

You had sighed, thrusting the newspaper at me again. "There was no need to be rude."

"I was being utmost polite."

"Read it now, then."

I read the title and looked at the pictures, gathering enough information from them. "Yes?"

"Did you know about this?"

I thought for a moment. "Yes, I did."

"Were you there?"

I wasted another moment on something I could have answered instantaneously. "Yes, I was. Did you miss me last night?"

The last part was said in a mocking tone. I watched you bite your lip upon hearing it.

"Alright, America, alright. Just...go to your room," you said, a defeated, empty look about you.

"Yeah, I was going there anyway," I replied, brushing him off as I took my coffee and made for the door. I stopped, and looked back over my shoulder to where I could only see your back, shoulders slumped. "Also, since you drank the last of your tea last night, you'll have to make do with coffee."

And with that and a satisfying droop in your posture, I made my exit.

All the tea was gone. What a pity.

I just love tea parties...

I couldn't do any wrong.

No matter how hard I tried, you weren't disappointed in me.

You didn't hate me.

You didn't despise me.

You didn't want me to go away.

I, like anyone, just desperately needed your disapproval...

"America, did you write this?"

I remember this too. So very clear. So so so very clear...

"I'm flattered, England, that you think I am that good at literature. No, I didn't."

Your shoulders drooped. "Do you approve of what these people are doing?"

"These people are my people, England. Not yours. Of course I approve. After all, what they think, is my way of thinking, and vice versa."

A little more defeat in your posture. Not what I wanted; not disapproval. "Is this really what you want?"

"England, why do leaves fall?"

You had froze at that question, looking across the meadow at me, then around at your surroundings.

Correct. Quick at catching on, aren't you?

"This...I..."

"Hah," I turned to face you, the wind blowing in my hair. It was a long way away from Autumn yet, another month, and another month on top of that before the leaves were to fall.

But...I just have to ask, England.

"England, we don't want leaves to fall because we want them to stay the same."

Your eyes had widened. How lovely.

"But, England, leaves don't think like us, do they?"

You watched me, something unreadable flickering across your eyes. Ooh, was that pain? Ouch. I guess I'm better with analogies than one expected.

"England, why don't you hate me?"

You didn't answer.

"Why don't you disapprove of what I'm doing?"

Your mouth opened, then shut again. And then you spoke. "America is my little brother...and I trust you to do whats right. But I don't think this is right...I don't want this..."

"Oh, so you do disapprove, do you?"

"No. I just-"

"Don't want me to leave? Touching, really."

You winced, and stepped back, your fist shaking around the parchment you held in your hand.

"Hey England. Leaves fall off trees because they don't want to stay the same. They want to change colour and fall and fly."

I heard an intake of breath. I turned my back on you.

"Leaves want to be free."