A/N Haha, Woo! My first fanfiction! Haha! XP You FrUk lovers, not to be mean, can go die (And learn to love Canada.). But I'll have lots of yaoi/fluff! ^w^ Anyways… comments are love (Please be merciful! My first FanFic, mind you!), and I'll take requests unless it's of a couple I DO NOT respect (e. g. UkJapan, GerPru [Italy is Germany's, gottverdammit!], and FrUs as well as FrUk).

Human and country names used.

Warnings: lots of boyxboy, for this is yaoi and fluff (MUST LURV TEH FLUFF). Don't like? Go crawl under a rock (wouldn't say no to 'go die', too). Those of us that lurvs it, can stay and enjoy~~

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Hetalia, or the characters.

"Sometimes I can't help the small glimmer of hope, all but praying he'll come back to me. I really don't see why; it's been such a long time. Who it is I really want is the true question, though. Sometimes I want back the small, little blonde that spoke my name wrong with a 'W' instead of an 'L'. The rest of the time I want the grown man to stay with me for the eternity that we will live.

"Honestly, the most missed part of the entire being that is him would be the way his piercing, sapphire-coloured eyes (that have out shown the sun on many occasions) glint with his almost never-ending happiness, and not a single person could even attempt to keep from loving.

"Sometimes, I'll leave the house, or wherever I am and hope that he'll run into me, or I'll see him. Maybe he would say the five words that would make everything better again. 'I wish I never left.' Those words–they still make me drop to my knees after such a long time, every single time I think of the Revolution that he started and finished.

"Sometimes I think, if he comes back… everything will make sense again. Life will brighten; each day will rise with sunny skies once again. I still want him back. I loved him.

"No; I still love him. I love his goofy grin. I love his unearthly blue eyes. I love how he's rarely mad. I just love him! I, England, love America!" The emerald-eyed Brit announced to the supposedly empty ally way that he wandered into purposely, in order to vent his dilemma.

Little did England know that a specific tall, goofy-grinned, blonde male had followed him into the ally unnoticed, and had heard everything that was spoken. America was taken aback by the speech, shocked to know the smaller man, yet this bit of information gives him the courage to confront England.

America stepped forward heavily, as to be heard despite the distance between the two men. "I hadn't known that. England, I love you, too." America stated loudly, but as serious as humanly possible.

Startled, England spun around too quickly, only to be caught by the larger man. "Wha- when did you get there?" Arthur exclaimed, clearly a bit uneasy by the unintentional confession of love, and simultaneously unaware he was using the object of distress to steady himself physically.

"Oh, just for, like… all of it," The American said, brushing the matter away, treating it as a fly. "but, I really do love you, too."

"Well; you should have made yourself known before—" Arthur was sharply cut off by the pleasantly soft, warm lips that belong to, none other than, Alfred.

Arthur responded immediately. He tilted his head back a few degrees for better access, opening his mouth wider at the slightest provoking by the tip of Alfred's tongue.

Four years later

The British man flushes at the sight of his old-time lover running at him from the other side of the driveway, knowing this is just the beginning of these things. He briefly glances at his diamond-encrusted golden ring, marking him as a married man, before America scoops him up into a bridal-styled hold, giggling like the little boy he was only two hundred, some-odd number of years ago.

Yeah, life is brighter, now that Alfred's back in it.