AN: I wrote this a long time ago, but it was a multi fandom for, so I rewrote a few sections to make it all Hetalia. I love Busted so much. This song gives me feels. If you haven't already heard it, it's Meet You There. Be warned, I haven't ever written PruHun or GerIta successfully before... and also, names!

Lachlann - Scotland

PAIRINGS: PruHus, ScotCan, USUK, GerIta

DISCLAIMER: Neither Hetalai or the song by Busted belong to me

I'm waiting,

for the perfect time to call you back.

'Cause I remember saying;

Don't wanna know the truth,

Can't handle that.

And I try to,

Just forget you,

But I don't know how.

If only I knew.

Gilbert was feeling unlike his usual awesome self, crashed out in his brothers basement on the sofa he thought he'd seen the last of. His eyes wandered from the ceiling to the phone in his hand and back again. He sighed, running a finger over the battered keyboard of his beloved mobile for what felt like the hundredth time that night. The screen was illuminated, the image he'd been hovering over lighting up once again. Her face. Elizabeta's blushing face when he'd ambushed her after a date one night, using the photo to identify her calls.

She had been blushing when Gilbert found her, with that moron, that stupid Austrian. Gilbert's finger toyed with the green button on the phone in his hands, but the image of the two of them sitting together like that stopped him. He had stormed out of the house when they saw him, and he hadn't turned back to hear her pleas, but now his heart heaved with regret, because try as he might, he still wanted to hold her. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation, maybe there was.

But he'd screwed it up hadn't he? He had left her crying and Roderich was probably comforting her as he thought. He had ruined whatever chances he had had, and the worst part? He couldn't esxcape Elizabeta, her memory haunted him. He still had a bruise from the last frying-pan incident, or the smell of her perfume that seemed to linger on nearly all of his jackets. With a disgruntled sigh, Gilbert turned on his side and buried himself into the sofa, trying to press the image of the beautiful Hungarian from his mind.

It's written all over your face,

Such a painful thing to waste.

Tell me now;

Where do we go?

Now the future's not so clear,

I can't believe we've ended here.

Where's the world that doesn't care?

Maybe I could meet you there.

"Something's up with Arthur," Lachlann had said, folding the paper in his hands as his husband slid breakfast down onto the table. Matthew had frowned but shook it off. 'He'll be fine Lachlann,' he had said, and that had been the end of it for that day.

"He's getting antsy again, mi gaol," Lachlann had said one night as they lay in the dark together, and Matthew ran his hand soothingly through his lovers hair. 'You'll sort things out soon my dear,' he had said and they soon fell into peaceful slumbers.

Matthew never thought much of the small comments the Scot made about his brother because Arthur wasn't a wild person. He wasn't one to make extreme decisions on a whim at all. Then one night, it happened.

"He's... he's taken... Edinburgh..." Emerald eyes shone with tears as he stood in the doorway, hand grasping the doorframe for support. Matthew fell to his knees by the Scot, arms pulling him into a hug that wouldn't end for hours. He didn't want to let him go.

"What are we going to do now?"

"How long have you got left?"

"C-Can't I stay?"

"W-We'll meet again, I promise."

"I'm sorry... we didn't have longer."

They spent their last night together, in front of the fire. Always touching, be it hands, feet, lips or legs. They curled into one another, not wanting to waste a second they had. Sleep danced around them, but they resisted, enjoying what they had before the smoky tendrils pulled them under.

Matthew woke alone the next morning.

I'm sorry

If I slagged you down,

I meant no harm.

But when I heard the stories,

I said things I didn't mean,

Should have stayed calm.

But sadly,

You got angry.

And it breaks my heart.

You're so mad at me!

Alfred turned on his heels an slowly walked away from his mentor. His men moved in unison ahead of him, filing into tents as they arrived back at camp. They were happy he could see; they were free. No longer under England's rule, America was free. So why didn't he feel overjoyed? There was no rush of happiness as he declared himself free. Yes, his liberty was amazing and he was proud to stand on his own two feet now. But something wasn't right. There was still one man on the battlefield.

Arthur's coat was ruined. 'Not that it matters now...' The red is stained a murky brown, a mix of blood, dirt and rain. He can't remember how long he's been out here now; was it two hours or more? His men know to leave him alone, but any minute now and they'll begin searching for him. He heaves out a weary sigh and sticks a pale hand out to find his gun. Numb fingers wrap themselves around it as he pulls himself to his feet. He begins the slow walk back to the English base...

What has he done? All of this... was his fault. He's lost his brother, his little America. Not just as a colony either. Today he lost a friend.

Alfred won't speak to him now, in fact he'll rarely see his former brother for a long time. Alfred will be mad for a while, that Arthur wasn't more cooperative, that they parted on such bitter terms. He'll hate Arthur for a while, for breaking his heart like this.

The fourth of July becomes a sour day for the British nation.

It's written all over your face,

Such a painful thing to waste.

Tell me now;

Where do we go?

Now the future's not so clear,

I can't believe we've ended here.

Where's the world that doesn't care?

When Ludwig awoke one Friday, he was surprised for a moment that there was no Italian snuggled close against him. Then he remembered the orders. He has work to do, he was told, and so does Italy. Their bosses had decided they had become too lax with their work, and told them to return to their respective countries and get on with it. It was odd, he thought, that he was so unsettled by the disappearance of the little Feliciano. Normally he was shouting at the Italian nonstop anyway, and prayng for a break from his constant chatter.

Now he had it though, it felt wrong. He was just starting to get used to having Feliciano around all the time, and it had become almost a comfort to share a bed with him during the colder nights. Since they had been banned from seeing each other, it felt like the need for Feliciano had grown.

As Ludwig began his work for the day, he couldn't help but find his mind wander. Was Feliciano doing his work? "Probably not, he'll be asleep for hours and even then...' Ludwig thought, with a sudden twinge in his chest. He missed Feliciano. He wanted him back, he wanted to protect him. He couldn't launch a grenade properly, let alone get through a day without being picked on. Ludwig was genuinely worried for the him. He missed his Feliciano.

Maybe I could meet you there

From: Mein awesome girlfriend

Gilbert, I'm sorry, but please talk to me? I'll be waiting by our spot x

Maybe I could meet you there

"And in other news, Scotland has won back it's capital..."

Maybe I could meet you there

Dear Iggy Arthur,

I know we haven't spoken for a long time... but I'd love to talk. Write back?

Maybe I could meet you there

Hello Ludwig~ I'm not supposed to know this yet, but I'm getting a holiday soon! Finally! I'm coming to Germany, so I was thinking...

Maybe I should meet you there