Hello everyone :D Don't mind me I suddenly just thought of this one-shot and then poof! here it is xD Hope you guys like it because I was so bored and yeah
P.S: I do not own hetalia and it goes for every story I write
There was once a certain boy who I used to know.
We shared the same looks, likes, some dislikes, sports and whatnot. We even had a sheep and a kiwi each to call our own. To distinguish ourselves in front of our boss, I wore a red parade outfit while he wore the white alternative. But like that would make us look different from a typical girl though, except we couldn't care less.
Through the years we aided each other in running our quiet little country. Sure Australia came over frequently, yet most of the time it was just us and our sheep. We used to run after the ones that stray away from the farm; making bets who can catch it first. Strangely we always seem to lay our small hands on it on the same time.
Compared to me, he was wary of others. He would steer clear of newcomers and observe quietly while I eagerly run up to them. Strict and apprehensive, his scowl never leaves his face, unless it was just us again. Then he'd act like a normal kid.
We never appear simultaneously. Like I said, he usually stays away and let me make friends with the people to sail our coast and come up shore. Yet one man changed everything. Our lives, our people, and how the two of us would stay together.
Sporting a rather large vessel, he came onto our land in a small boat accompanied by a few men. I remember clearly how he hissed at me to come back behind the tree, but I was eager to meet these visitors from across the sea. By this time we already had a name to go around with that given by that guy named Netherlands. It is what we use to formally introduce our humble trio of islands. Eyes lit up with hope, I came forward and introduced myself as "the South Island of New Zealand".
I felt daggers pricking me at the back from a pair of angry eyes behind me but I let it slide. It is something I have gotten used to. Smiling, the blonde man crouched down and said, "Good day child. I am the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland or England for short."
England. To him, he was the cause of every single misfortune that started coming our way; for him at least. To me, he was someone who is nice enough to bother with such a small country such as ours. Compared to Netherlands who never came back, his visits were frequent...in fact, too frequent. England knew nothing of him for awhile. Refusing to meet the foreigners, I had to relay the things we talked about to him at night. And with each story, his eyes grew darker.
Then came that fateful day. Our boss thought it was for the best to come under the British rule. Australia has agreed to it, and in order to "survive", we must do the same. Yet letting two children run a country would be difficult. Different views, suggestions, arguments, reasons and the like. There must be only one.
The choice was not ours to make.
In the conference room, we sat side by side and listened intently as they laid down the comparisons. To begin with, I was the only one who welcomed the foreigners here. For the sake of our country or the sheer want to learn more than what lies within our borders, I interacted with England and even showed him around, brimming with pride with what we have. I was not the one who stayed back whenever someone new came along, or became too cautious to be nervous about anything.
Looking into each others' eyes, we realized there wasn't much to compare at all.
The decision was final. There was nothing we could have done. Sitting alone, outside our farm, we looked up sadly towards the Southern Cross. We were as much of a pair as those four stars glowing brightly in the southern sky. It was only a matter of time before he would fade. Despite Australia, I would be alone from now on.
The next time England saw me, I was now a shy and timid boy. Would only speak when told, and who doesn't smile as often as before. A few times did he try to ask what was wrong, hoping to find a way to bring back the cheerful child he met on the shore. Yet as I gaze towards the pair of worried emerald eyes, I can only mutter two words to summarize it all.
"North Island."
The next time we met, he was a different person all together.
Resting my aching body in a tent I shared with Australia, it was the only relief we felt after all the fighting we had to do, and it didn't even make a dent on the resentment we both had towards England and France. Outside, a few hundred yards I guess, bodies littered ANZAC cove, cold and lifeless. The air reeked of blood and sorrow. Our brave soldiers were slowly being fed to the jaws of death; something that I didn't think of when I agreed that being together with the British Empire may be good for us. Of all the stupid things that kept slapping us in the face, there was one that haunted me till this day.
There he stood, wearing the same uniform as us in order to blend in with the soldiers. His eyes were cold and angry, and if he had a gun I would bet NZD100 that he would've shot me on that spot. If I could pick one sentence that might be running through his mind right now, it would be, "I told you never to trust him. Now look at what you did to our people."
It came to me that North will return when the north island suffers greatly in any way. And with a large amount of people dying, this is how we celebrated our reunion. By that I mean tackling me to the ground, snarling and spouting curses to my face while adding a good punch to go with it. Australia managed to pry him off me, only to stare back and forth between us.
I did deserve what I got though. If it wasn't for me, we would still be together back at our farm, doing nothing but play with sheep before our boss would order us to manage something. But now, North Island and I, South Island, can never be what we were back then.
"IF ONLY YOU STAYED AWAY FROM THOSE POMMY BASTARDS, I WOULD HAVE NEVER FADED! MY TWIN, THE ONLY ONE WHO I TRUSTED WITH MY LIFE, WAS THE ONE WHO TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME. I SHOULD'VE KNOWN IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG SOUTH!"
Crying, North Island towered over me with his foot on my neck. Australia found no courage to intervene. I gasped for breath as more pressure was applied to my aching throat and gripped his ankle for a chance to speak.
"Do you know how it feels to fade away? It's as if something is trying to suck out your soul. But how would you know? They picked you over me. And you did nothing to stop them."
I don't know if it started to rain but I felt my cheeks getting wet. I should have been happy to see him again, but like the battlefield that we would once again trudge through in due time, it was cruel and unforgiving. It happened every day after that. He lingered around and even joined the battalion against the Turks; taking his frustration out on the targets with headshots. I'm not sure if England realized it by now, but I wasn't the one who boldly went to his tent and socked him in the face. Australia was still shook up when he found out his little kiwi friend has a snarky and slightly unstable twin.
It was five days after the end of our battle at Gallipoli. North had calmed down a bit, meaning he doesn't shove me to the ground or try firing warning shots near my head anymore. Now he was quiet as the speaker called out the names of those who perished during the fight, honouring their brave souls. Turning my head, I saw he was already walking away and decided to follow him. England can scold me later if ever he found out.
He stood by a cliff as the sun slowly rose to start the new day. The wind rustled his hair gently and I slowly walked towards him. Whether he decided to ignore me for the time being or just waiting for a good time to pounce, I can't seem to say, but I was able to stand by his side and we stayed there in silence.
Everything was surprisingly calm over the span of a few days. The bodies were completely gone and in hundreds of caskets that were being loaded onto ships to be brought back home. To be able to enjoy such a scene like this was depressing; especially what North had to say.
"The battle is over, and it is only a matter of time before I would fade once again..."
To say I was beating myself up about that was an understatement. Sure he almost ripped my throat out on the first meeting, but it was like losing him all over again. And it would continue on like that every time our country would be in pain. I was lost in my thoughts for quite some time because when I looked at him he was already sort of transparent. If you must imagine, think Canada. If there were words I wanted to say, none came out of my mouth. Instead, I feel like some child and started crying. Oh joy.
When I looked up at him though, I froze. The psychopath is actually smiling. What the bloody heck. Not the maniac smile but the soft caring kind. And it really is a pain in the arse that I can't even hug the guy. C'mon does life hate me that badly? An almost invisible hand reached up and patted my head comfortingly. He didn't say anything, so I took it as a silent goodbye. But before he disappeared completely I was able to smile and say,
"...Till we meet again."