Tears were falling down his little cheeks as England started running. He didn't know where to run so he just did it. Without an ending of his tears he cried louder.

"Angleterre? Why are you crying?" A familiar voice asked the little boy.

England looked up straight into the face of France. A sob left his lips and he clung to France's robe, hiding his face in it. Feeling the warmth of a hand, England stopped his crying for a little while, then he started again.
"They hate me!" The little boy whispered.

Even though England didn't say who hated him, France just knew who the other boy meant.

"Scotland hates me! Ireland hates me! Wales hates me!" England continued his whining speech.

A little smile laid down on France's lips as he pulled the younger nation closer into his arms, not stopping to pet him.

"Everything's fine, mon petit Angleterre." The Frenchman whispered into the small ear of England, holding him close.

"Nothing's fine, you bloody git!"

A little fist hit his chest again and again. He didn't know what to do to make the smaller one stop crying. He was terrible at those kind of things.

"I know... But I'm here. I promise you I will never hate you or despise you." France smiled to England and put a light kiss on his forehead, which made the little England blush.

"Do you promise?" The British asked to be sure.

"Oui."