Disclaimer: Fluffy doesn't own America, England, Hetalia, or USUK. If she did... ohohohohohoho~
It was the last straw.
'You can only come up with idiotic plans, America!'
America was tired of it all.
'You always act like a brat! You're absolutely useless!'
England probably hated him. He thought America was a no-good, stupid child?
Fine. America would prove him wrong.
The next meeting, America had all his papers and presentations in order. He had a clean, crisp suit that even Austria would deem "acceptable". And most of all, he had his mature, cool demeanor worn.
He could do this. He would show England that he was responsible. He would show all the countries his abilities as a superpower. They would finally acknowledge him. And here America was, thinking that he already proved himself when he gained his independence. Apparently not.
Soon, countries started flooding the Meeting Room. It was showtime.
England was surprised, not to mention, a little worried. Throughout the meeting, America actually took notes and presented an adequate, to say the least, PowerPoint about Global Warming, for once.
It was wonderful to actually have the American get serious for once, but it was quite… unnerving. No more was the happy, cheerful ball of sunshine he once knew. No more was the black hole for food, especially his beloved hamburgers. His personality took a complete 180, and England wasn't just a bit worried about the lad, though he wouldn't admit it.
So, after the meeting broke for a lunch break, England decided to confront the American as he was gathering up his papers and items of the like.
"Er… America? May I speak to you for a moment?" England asked.
"Hm? What do you need, England?" America's use of his more formal country name alarmed the Briton. America always insisted on a nickname, unless he was being serious.
"… America, are you… feeling alright?"
"Yes, I am feeling perfectly fine. Why do you ask?" Formal speech, too? Something must have happened to America. He would never useproper speech otherwise.
"England? Are you going to answer my question? Any time now would be nice. I have other important things to do."
"Oh, er…"
How would he approach the subject? He couldn't just say "Oh, why hello, there! You're acting all weird since you aren't annoying anymore!"
Like that would work.
"…"
"Fine. I'll talk to you later. Goodbye, England." America started to leave the room.
"Wait, America!" England frantically called out.
"What?" America said, annoyance beginning to set in.
England hesitated, and spoke. "You're not yourself. What happened to the hamburger loving country, America, I knew?"
America let out a mirthless laugh. It was heartbreaking, one that someone would use when all hope was lost. When all of that someone's loved ones and family died and he was at death's door with so many regrets left.
"You expect me to be all happy and cheerful? Is that what I am? I'm not allowed to be serious?"
"No, but-" England started.
"Well, popular to contrary belief, I can actually get sad. I can actually get hurt. I can actually get mature."
"America-" tried England.
"No, let me talk," America interjected angrily. "I'm not just a happy-go-lucky idiot."
"I'm not useless. Look at me!" America demanded. "I'm a superpower!" He spread his arms and raised them above his head. A giggle bubbled in his throat. It progressed to a laugh. Then a slightly maniacal chortle.
"I can do anything if I wanted to," America murmured after abruptly stopping his crazed laughter. "I could destroy you."
There was a short pause.
"See? I'm not useless," America finished.
"Is that all?" England questioned, seemingly bored with the conversation. "Because to be quite frank, are you daft?"
"You're not useless. Of course you aren't!" England rolled his eyes. "If you were, do you think the American Revolution would've happened?" he asked softly.
America knew that England was secretly proud of him. The look in those deep emerald eyes told him everything. He felt tears silently rolling down his face.
"Oh, America," England said, walking up to the larger country. He embraced the American, comforting his former colony.
America wrapped his arms around the other country. With a faint hum, England patted America's back. Feeling content, England slowly closed his eyes, continuing the soothing gesture.
After a couple of seconds, England heard a strange whoosh and felt a thump on his upper back. There was a sharp pain, definitely not unfamiliar. The intrusion suddenly receded, leaving a small, though fatal, wound.
There was really only one conclusion. He was stabbed. By none other thanAmerica.
England felt himself falling. Onto a strong, stable arm, and into darkness. He was gently set on the floor, a shadow looming above him. He coughed, feeling warm, metallic fluid ooze from his mouth.
"Hollywood comes in handy England. I think that was pretty good acting, right?" the American asked, referring to his "crying" and "breakdown." England couldn't answer, for once the dagger was pulled out, it left a terrible stinging in his back.
"I forget to tell you! This is a special dagger, England," America stated, gesturing to said object in his hand. "It's been covered with a special poison designed to weaken nations. You'll be out of commission for, say, a week or so."
America slipped the bloody dagger into his sleeve. He would dispose of it later. He smiled at the Englishman.
"But you'll be very helpful! My scientists would love a new subject to play with."
The world around England was growing black. No matter how hard he struggled, he could only get one word out.
"Why?"
"Oh, England. Silly England," America cooed. "It's because then I can find out how to destroy a nation through its personification. Once that's done, I'll obliterate everyone. But, you'll still be here," America assured.
He crouched down next to England. England didn't even have the strength to raise his arm to push America away. America tried to wiped the blood off England's chin, but all he did was smear it. Although, it seemed that he didn't even notice.
England's vision was growing darker and darker by the minute. He couldn't even see the American's face right in front of him. Neither could he see the hand caressing his pale cheek, leaving a crimson streak of blood.
"You know why?" America whispered.
Fatigue was creeping up on England. He could feel himself slipping away from reality. Only one final thing was heard before England succumbed to the darkness.
"Because after all, I love you."
Yes, I know. I'm a horrible person. Please don't try to kill me. Blame this on watching too much Corpse Party.
If it's horrible tell me! If it's actually good... tell me that, too!
Based on how I write, how old do you think I am?