Haha wow this is really short. But I guess that's what a drabble is, right? I may build on this at a later date, though.

So it's England's birthday today. Yay! Happy birthday England!

Ambiguous ending so you may interpret it however you wish.

I don't own Hetalia.


When Arthur cried, it rained.

Tears leaked from watery green eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Rain poured from the sky, pattering against his porch roof and drenching the streets. Thick black storm clouds gathered in the sky, reflecting the Brit's dark mood and plaguing London with dreariness.

Rain pattered against the sidewalk. People hurried back and forth to their destinations, hunched under drenched umbrellas. Arthur Kirkland sat on his front porch, sipping steaming hot tea with a gray fleece blanket wrapped around him. It was so peaceful today, with the quiet splashing and smell of the rain. But nothing could stop the tears streaking his blotchy face.

What was he crying for? He wasn't sure if even he knew anymore.

He could feel his citizen's distress and annoyance at the sudden deluge that had come upon them without warning.

Pit pat, went the rain.

He didn't know what he cried for, but when he heard the splish splash of shoes dashing through puddles, when he looked up and saw them and a smile cracked his mask of misery, he knew he wouldn't be crying any longer.