I'm sorry. I don't know what this is, nor can I explain it.

I wanted to write about America again, and this time it ended up being through the eyes of England.

I don't own Hetalia. Reviews are loved.

Enjoy.

You'll never know, just how much I love you.

You'll never know, because you're stupid, and naive. You are dense, you are oblivious, and you are far too innocent. Yet, at the same time, you're not really innocent at all, and words do not bounce off you like everyone says. I see them as they are absorbed, waiting, for their turn to be filed and made sense of.

But... that's why I love you.

I look into those eyes of yours, those bold, blue eyes, and I see wonder. I see awe, and self-satisfaction, and the belief that everything can be fixed if one only tries hard enough. I can see eagerness. Hope.

Freedom.

I have seen freedom in your eyes many times. And it has hurt me. You were young then, so determined and so stubborn. You didn't listen to me. You never do. You broke out of your cage, the pieces of metal mercilessly falling to the ground while you rose up into the air, and I could only watch.

I couldn't protect you anymore. I couldn't hold you close to me, huddled behind fine golden cages, safe. I never wanted you to feel cold, or hungry, or hurt. I wanted to always keep you by my side. I loved you.

Yet, your freedom is beautiful. I have seen you sprout wings and take flight into the sea above. I have seen you strive for something and never give up until it is yours.

You are strong. So, so strong.

But, at the same moment, so very fragile.

You are built out of metal and stained glass. In some places you are indeed indestructible. You stand tall, filled with confidence. You move with grace. There is a fire in your eyes and a sharp, knowing edge to your voice. You speak as though you can take on the world, and sometimes, I truly believe you can.

In other places though, you are weak. Truth shines through you like the sun, becoming pained and distorted by the coloured glass. You create illusions, hiding who you are so no one can see. Because, if they see, then they will realize how breakable you've become.

How human.

You are so vulnerable that you build walls around the glass to try and keep it from shattering. You isolate yourself and you never let anyone else in.

You think that no one can tell. That no one bothers to look at you.

But I do.

I can see you hiding inside the shell you create. I can see how it hurts you. Sometimes I just want to give you a hug so tight that the shell cracks and falls away, and you are yourself. Vulnerable, yes. Insecure, yes. But yourself.

I steal glances at you when you aren't looking. The notes of your expressions piece together like music, and being with you is like holding chocolate in my mouth. It's sweet and bitter, and I need to savour every second of it. It ends too soon. It is fleeting.

And, I'm always left wanting more.

You like to think. I remember seeing you more than once, sitting slouched over at world meetings, eyes glazed and hazy, lips pressed together in a contented grin.

You are mature. Aged. You've been through horrible scenes and countless wars. You've had to grow up quickly and that has left you with a hole in your heart.

You're searching for something to fill that hole, aren't you?

I say I hate you. I can't stand you. That I'm glad you're out of my hair. I tell everyone how annoying you are, and how sometimes I'd wish you'd just disappear.

I'm lying.

I never wanted you to leave me. I'm chasing after you still, can you tell? Don't go, don't go.

You are suddenly so far ahead, it feels like I'm never going to reach you. But I will run. I will run and run, and I'll never stop until I have you in my grasp.

I'll never stop, even if you never realize what I'm doing. I love you.

I love you.

But I'll never admit it.