AN: I hope you enjoy this, I have a soft spot for America and England.
Alfred hates that look.
He sees it sometimes, just at the corner of England's eyes and barely large enough for anyone except him to notice. He's seen it enough to notice that look anywhere.
It's the look that England gives him when he tries to play the violin. When he clutches it in his clumsy hands, trying to understand just how the music drifted from it and sweats because the bow feels awkward and strange. He's never been one for soft or gentle music and the violin makes him feel like a brute. After the last hour of trying and failing, he looks at England who's trying to smile at him, give him some sort of reassurance but all he can see is that look in his eyes, the look of slight disappointment and understanding. It makes him drop the instrument and storm out the room. He isn't sure whether England knows that he is doing it because later, there's store bought cookies lying on the table for him with a glass of milk as if to say, "I'm not sure why you're angry but here's something to calm you down."
When he's trying to play cricket and standing out in the sun, bored and tired and just wanting to sit down and enjoy the clouds, he's sees that look again. After he misses the ball again and it slaps into his leg, he curses under his breath and throws the bat down to the grass. England runs over and even though the man is sweating and red, he can see that look creep into his eyes. He plays two more hours of the game just to erase it and doesn't speak for the rest of the night.
The first time he tries to drink tea, he heaps four spoonfuls of sugar into the small ornamental cup and doesn't try to disguise the look on his face. It tastes odd and makes his body feel so calm and relaxed that it makes him nervous. England is sipping it carefully, occasionally closing his eyes or releasing the smallest and barely noticeable sighs. He enjoys watching him when he's peaceful because he looks fresh and strong and those bags under his eyes leave him for just a few moments. He's still to young to understand what England has to deal with and all he wants is to see a smile or hear his rare laugh. But when England opens his eyes and watches him trying to force down the tea, that look creeps into his eyes again and America can feel something like a hole form in his heart. They talk about nothing in particular but he makes sure that he includes every talent of his into the conversation.
When America stands in front of England, a child no longer, and watches those eyebrows descend into an expression of pure anger and passion, he sees that look again. This time, it's not only in the corner of his eyes but is written in every curve and angle, almost like a tattoo. There's hatred and spite but there's also betrayal and sadness in those eyes and a fresh sheen that takes the breath out of him. He's tall and strong and no matter how many insults England throws at him, he can bear it.
He'll be close to him again someday, he'll sit next to him and drink coffee and talk about how he can't stand tea and whether England still plays cricket. But he'll never forget that look in England's eyes when he fights for his independence or the way that it streams down his face to cover all of the love that they ever had for each other.
For now, he'll bury himself in his country and he'll help it to grow and flourish until it has the beauty of Europe and the strength of England. It's all he can do to forget how happy he once was and the stain that caused the rift.
AN: I'm sure that every child has seen that look. The one that makes you feel about two feet tall and as worthless as a stain on fresh clothes. I like the idea that England raised America and I think that it must have been difficult for America to make the decision that he did. Anyway, thanks for reading!