AN: I was actually working with some dried roses when I came up with this idea and decided it'd be perfect for them. This isn't my best work, but I feel it came from a good idea, and that's what really matters, right? This could use some work, so I may rewrite it.

...

Who am I kidding? No I won't.

Anyway, I don't own the characters. Enjoy! -Kaida Amarante-

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America walked into England's house, not bothering to knock on the door or ring the bell. Why should he? He hardly ever did. But on his walk through the Briton's house, he found no trace of the blonde. Even the garden in the back was empty. But as the American stood, admiring England's hard work, he noticed the rose bushes. They were empty. It was that time of year again. He walked back into the house, determined to give England the shock of his life when he came home, and walked around again, this time noticing a closed door he had never noticed before. He decided to open it and peek inside.

The room was bright compared to the darkness in the rest of the currently unlit house and the sunset outside. The walls were white, no color or wallpaper covering them. Shelf after shelf covered almost every inch of the wall, each covered with dried roses. Sitting in the clear area in the middle of the room was England, facing toward the window on the opposite side of the room from the door. America made his way inside slowly, his footsteps silenced by the cushy white carpet underneath him. When he got closer, he was shocked to see England kneeling on the floor, staring at the white rose in his cupped hands in front of him. It hadn't fully bloomed yet. There were dying petals falling from the rose and landing on England's pants or the floor around him, leaving what was left on the rose pure white and as smooth as silk.

"Have you ever held something so fragile and pure in your hands, America?" America jumped at England's voice. "Something that you wanted to preserve? That you wanted to protect and hide from anything that could hurt it? But then you start taking it apart pice by piece on purpose..." His soft, pale hands started pulling the silky petals off of the rose, one by one, leaving it bare and leaving him surrounded by white rose petals. "And you have no idea why you did?"

America felt a jolt of guilt run through his heart as his mind automatically went to the revolution. "Yes..." Tearing something so pure and beautiful apart was painful. But in his case, it had to be done. For his people. For himself. So that England wouldn't see him as a younger brother anymore. So that England would see him as an adult, as someone who could take care of both of them. "Something that you want to lock in a cage and hide from the world, so that they would only see you. But you knew that something like that would make them hate you, and hurt them more than anything else would. I know how that feels."

"What does someone like you have to protect? Your bloody hamburgers?" England comtinued to look away from America, his voice emotionless as he brushed the petals off his legs and gathered them up, dumping them in a nearby basket. "Something you feel you need to protect is something I want to see." England stood then and made his way over to one of the shelves, purposely avoiding America.

America took a step closer and felt a smirk trying to grow on his face. "You really want to see what I have that's so beautiful and pure that I feel I should protect it?" England nodded. "Well, come on, then." America grabbed England's wrist and dragged him from the room, through the hallway, and to the blonde's bathroom.

England yanked his wrist out of America's grip as the man turned on the light. "Why the bloody hell are we in my bath-"

The Briton's words were cut off as America forced him to look in the mirror. "There you have it. My rose. Beautiful and pure, but thorny as all hell." America chuckled and stroked England's hair, smiling at the blush covering the Briton's face. "I tore it apart, and now I'm going to make sure I never do that again, or let anyone else do something like that."

"W-Wait...so what you said in the room...a-about locking something in a cage and..."

"I was talking about you, England." America buried his face in the blonde's neck. "I jsut want to lock you up and keep you all to myself."

"America...I think it would be best if you left now..." America simply tightened his arms around the man's waist. "America, get out of my house!"

"I'm not leaving you again, England! Why the hell are you so scared?"

"Why do you think? The last time you told me you loved me, you left me! You started the revolution!" England wrenched himself away from the American and backed up until he hit the bathroom wall. "How could I ever trust you with my feelings again...?"

"Like I said, thorny as all hell." America sighed and stuck his hands in the pockets of his brown leather bomber jacket, ignoring the fact that all he really wanted to do was hold England. "Even after all these years, you still don't understand why I did what I did?" He stared at the former empire and smiled softly, guiltily. "I didn't want to be just a younger brother to you anymore. I wanted...needed you to see that I'm not a kid anymore."

"Trust me, I don't see you as a kid, you fat ass." England turned away from America, his eyes downcast. "I just...You don't know how much that hurt...I can't trust you again, not with something as important as my feelings..."

America turned to the door, ready to leave, when he stopped, a realization hitting him as he turned back around. "Then what can I do to make you trust me again? I'll do anything."

"Why do you think I'd ever trust you again, you bloody git?"

America flinched at the anger in England's voice as the man turned to face the wall, away from America. "Because you're my rose. And you of all people should know that no matter how many times a rosebush dies, it just comes back the next year. Come back, England. Give me one more chance. I swear it'll be different this time. I swear it on my life. I love you, England. I need you. Right here, right by my side, where you belong. Where you've always been, through thick and thin. Please. I don't know what I'll do if I don't have you nearby. And we both know that after all this, we're either going to become more than friends, or you're going to be the one abandoning me. I couldn't handle something like that, England." He took a step towards the man, watching the blonde's body tense as he did so. "Please...don't leave me..."

"America...This isn't fair...using that kind of voice..."

"All's fair in love and war." America stepped forward again, suddenly glad England's bathroom was small as he reached forward and grabbed the man, pulling him backwards. "England, what do you say? Are you going to come through with me, or shut me out?"

England stilled, his face red as he answered.

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AN2: Not sure if I want to finish it or leave it up to your imagination. Am I mean for ending this way?

But it's not over! XD

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"I can't, America." England once again pulled out of America's grip and stared coldly into the man's shocked face. "For two reasons. One, because I can't be in a relationship based off of distrust, and two, even though I don't see you as a child, I'll always see you as my younger brother. Now, if you think we can't have a relationship unless it's a romantic relationship, I must politely ask you to leave my house."

"B-But, England-"

"It's time for you to go, America." England grabbed America by the arm and dragged him to the front door, flinging him outside before slamming the wooden barrier closed. As soon as he did, he turned around and slumped against the door, burying his face in his hands and bringing his knees up to his chest as he cried. "Dammit, England, you bloody fool..."

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