England's POV
I ran through the warzone, bullets whizzing past my face, bombs going off left and right. If only I had taken the time to stop and look behind me, I might have seen the crimson trail left in my wake. But there was no turning back. I refused to see the pain of which I was running from. I refused to see my brother coming towards me, rifle in hand, grimace plastered on his face. And lastly, I refused to let him see the tears flooding my sullen face. It was more than I could possibly bear at a time such as this, while we were in battle with one another. That's when I heard him yelling at me, but it was so faint due to the ringing in my ears. Either way, nothing he said could make me change my mind to face him.
America's POV
"BROTHER!" I cried out desperately, "YOU NEED TO TURN AROUND! YOU'RE WALKING INTO A MINE FIELD!" I felt the heat flowing from my dead eyes. Why wouldn't he just turn around?! He was going to get himself killed and all I could do was try and exceed his rapid pace. I was already shouting until my throat went numb. Breathing in the smoke that tainted the frigid air was not helping me to speak louder over the despairing field, filled with death and promises that would forever be stained red with blood.
England's POV
Suddenly everything was engulfed in black. I felt nothing. It was as if I was falling into a soundless, hopeless sea. And I could not feel breath entering or escaping my lungs. It should have hurt; not being able to sense anything. I could only think. And those thoughts were occupied with something bittersweet that I could not begin to put into words, something so damn beautiful, something that shot pain through my chest and sent tears to my eyes. What I was thinking about was America; my little brother. I took him under my wing when he was still young and yet to become a country. He was always so strong and brave, willing to take on every challenge thrown his way. It was a horrible thought that I was one of those challenges, and that he felt he had to turn against me. In all honesty, since I am probably to die here alone, anyways, I told myself the only truth I may ever know to be whole and without doubt. I missed him because I loved him, and I loved him because I missed him. Here on this bank of snow, I found myself to be hoping again. And that was enough to keep my heart slowly beating, fighting to see its core at least one last time.
America's POV
No. It couldn't end like this. Not here. Not before I told him that I forgave him, before I told him…..that I loved him more than anything. His body was only a bit scratched because he was not the one who triggered the bomb, no, that had been anther unfortunate soldier a few yards away who may have just as easily had someone who loved him as much as I loved England. But in that moment, no one else mattered. England was the only one on my mind. I froze for a second thinking he'd surely get back up. But he was stiller than I had ever seen a human…a live human, that is. All at once the possibility hit me, and I rushed over to him. Taking his head between my shaking hands, I looked down as him for any sign of life. But I felt his heart beat when I placed my hand onto his chest. Not seeing anything at first, I thought to myself, 'what if he can still feel me and is taking his final breaths…..I may never get another chance to do something I've been dreaming of since I was able to recognize my feelings,' and so, I leaned down and brushed his ear with my words, nothing but a whisper..
"I love you, England. And I need you to come back to me alive."
England's POV
I heard what I thought must be a dream…..but that wasn't all. I felt something… something that somehow wasn't pain or anything related. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but it was so amazing. Soft, warm, skin covered my lips gently. For a second I couldn't begin to fathom what it could be….then I realized the only thing it could be. Someone was kissing me.
One by one, my senses came flooding back. I took in a breath with my shallow lungs and I knew the scent that was now tickling my nose. But that couldn't be right… the air around me smelled like America…
After smell came taste. I could taste his lips against my own, like soot and apples. Something about that just felt right. The apples reminded me of better days, when we were still on one side of this interminable war. He was younger then and we would constantly be with each other. The time I was remembering danced in my mind, vivid as a painting; it was a warm spring day and we went for a walk in the woods behind my house. There had been no set trail yet, so we used markers to ensure we didn't get lost. We were just talking when, suddenly, America set off running, after blurting out the phrase "I smell apples." I ran after him, wondering how he could possibly be smelling apples in the middle of a forest. That's when I caught up to him, panting. I realized we were in a clearing, and when I lifted my eyes to see what he was gawking at, I understood. In front of us stood an apple tree that must have been at least three stories high. For a moment I just stared at the impossible thing, wondering how the hell it got there. But before I could come up with a plausible answer, America was quickly marching up to the monstrosity. All at once, he began to climb it, gesturing me to follow.
"What in god's name are you doing, America?"
"I'm climbing this tree! What does it look like?"
I almost said it looked like he'd gone mad, but that happened a long time ago. So, instead of questioning him, I succumbed to his request and met him up in the tree. I sat down next to him on one of the sturdier branches, about 30 feet off of the ground. He gave me a goofy smile and held an apple out to me.
"Here! We'll try them together," he said, with another in his left hand.
I couldn't help but smile back at him and took the apple. "Three…"
"Two.." he replied.
"One!" we said at once. At that we each bit into the apples, a bit of juice dripping from our lips. ~
Those lips… the ones that I knew were against mine right now, even with my eyes closed. I didn't want to open them yet, because right now, I was still dreaming of that beautiful day. Instead, I used all of my might to raise my head a bit more, pressing deeper into his embrace. I could feel him flinch. Slowly, my eyelids fluttered open… heavy as lead. His image was blurry, but I could tell it was him, my America.
America's POV:
I could sense him kissing me back, and soon his eyes were open. He looked completely put out and about to faint at any moment. But before that could happen, I pulled him close to me; closer than I had ever held anyone. I couldn't believe that he was alive. It made me so happy, and my tears turned from sorrowful to joyous. I felt like I must have been in some sort of alternate reality. Everything around me disappeared; the bombs, the gunfire, the blood cascading from my left leg, everything. In that moment, I didn't care that I would be leaving him soon or that I could die at any moment. Here felt safe, it felt like home. So before I took him to the infirmary to be fixed up, I would just hold him.
POV of both characters:
It was finally over and I couldn't be warmer in this scarlet mound of snow.