Enjoy this fanfiction inspired by the song Stand In The Rain by Superchick. This fic didn't turn out how I wanted it to, but it's not bad. With this fic I kinda just wanted to show that England wasn't the only one hurt by the war. PS. Tatiana I hope you cry. Anyway, don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers

Stand In The Rain

Some people told him that he never slowed down. That he was always speeding ahead of life, that he never stopped to smell the roses. His troops told him that day after day during the war. He got sick of it. But he ignored their complaints and kept speeding right on ahead.

In a way, America didn't understand why he kept speeding along. He was ahead in the war, so why didn't he slow down? Maybe it was because he knew that when he was all alone, it felt like it was all coming down. America wanted his independence more than anything, but sometimes it felt as if it was coming at too high of a cost.

He was fighting a long war with the person more important than anyone else in the whole damn world. But even though he cared about that person so much, he needed his independence, his freedom. He needed to be his own person, set his own rules. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt to separate.

He didn't turn around, he didn't look at England's fallen soldiers or his. If he did, he might stop and think. He might slow down, and he couldn't afford that right now. America knew that the shadows were long and in the middle of the night while his troops slept and he was in his tent, he could feel the stinging in his eyes, but he knew that if he cried that first tear, the tears would not stop raining down.

He had to stand in the rain, stand his ground. Even though everything was crashing down. He had to stand through the pain and know that he won't drown. Maybe one day everything will be okay again, one day. Maybe one day it wouldn't hurt England to look at him and maybe one day it wouldn't break America's heart to pieces when he thought of a rainy day such as this one.

But no, he wouldn't cry. He wouldn't make a sound. Even though he has his troops, his soldiers, this was his war, not theirs. He and England would continue to stare at each other from opposite sides of the battlefield, America's soldiers behind him and nothing behind England besides empty air and falling rain where troops should have been but weren't.

This was his war against England, but it was also his war against himself and the fears whispering that he would never have his independence, that he'd never be more than Britain's little brother, and that if he stood he'd fall down.

As his blue eyes narrowed at England, he knew he wanted to be found. In a way, he wanted England to drop his flag and his weapon and come running over to him, pulling him into his arms and telling him that everything would be okay and that nothing had to change. That England still loved him. That they would always be family.

But right now, it was either family or independence. To think he could have both was just selfish and idiotic.

"Hey Britain!" He yelled, lifting his gun to point it at the country he had always thought of as his brother. "All I want is my freedom!"

"I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother" they couldn't be brothers after this. They couldn't be anything, and the very knowledge of that stung his heart "from now on, consider me... Independent!" He shouted as he snarled.

The only way out of this was through everything America was running from and trying to defeat. Hurling insults at his ex-brother, he almost wished he could give up and lie down.

But he had to stand in the rain, wearing this drenched uniform that he was beginning to hate. He had to stand his ground on the land that was soaked in the blood of his allies and enemies. Even though everything was all crashing down. He had to stand through the pain and know he won't drown, and maybe one day what's lost between him and England can be found.

So he would just keep standing in the rain as England rushed forward, brandishing his gun. Their guns clashed, and America's gun was flung to the ground, hitting the mud as it laid there uselessly.

England pointed his gun at him as he panted "I won't allow it, you idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?" The green-eyed country asked, as if he genuinely wanted to know where he went wrong.

"Ready? Aim..." One of his soldiers commanded behind him, but they did not fire.

They stared at each other, blue eyes meeting green as England lowered his weapon "there's no way I can shoot you. I can't." His weapon clattered to the muddy ground as he slunk to the dirt on his knees, clutching his face as he took a shaking breath. "Why?" He asked, tears falling from his peridot green eyes like the rain around them. "Why?" He asked again, as if to himself this time. "Dammit, why?"

It hurt. It hurt so much to see England like this, and he was the one who wanted his freedom. He never knew it would hurt so much to break away from the only thing he's ever known to be true.

"It's not fair." England said before he reduced to messy sobs.

"You know why." America told him, although he wasn't even sure if he knew. He said this as he remembered the hand reaching towards him as a child and suddenly he wanted to know why too.

England continued to sob in front of him, and America forced words to leave his mouth. "What happened?" He couldn't let England know how much this hurt. Not now, not ever. "I remember when you were great."

The rain kept falling, as did England's tears. And America turned to head back to the land that was now his, the land he had fought for his freedom on, and he refused to let anyone see the rain that was now falling from his eyes and down his cheeks.

End