A crappy drabble I wrote while I was trying to get over Writer's Block. (which, by the way, happens quite often, so expect many creative dumps.)
It was the small things that mattered. The way America got through every day. The way he brought a smile to everyone's faces. The way he'd always shrug off everything. To England, this was the most amazing thing about his…his what? What was America to him, exactly? He was too close, too loving to be simply a "brother" anymore. They were too casual to be labeled "lovers." They were too romantic to be simple "friends." So what were they?
"England? Ennnnnngland? Igggyyyyyyyy?" America waved a gloved hand in front of England's face questioningly.
England snapped out of his trance-like state. "What is it?"
"Well, there was this awesome new theme park that just opened and, like, you know? It's just so awesome! But none of the other nations wanted to go with me, so, are you down?" America asked.
England sighed. American English gives me a headache.
"Why don't you just go by yourself, America?"
"Because, that would be boring! 'Sides, don't you wanna come with me?" America pouted.
"…fine." England shakily stood up, only to be attacked by a certain American nation.
"Yesssssssss!" America hugged England tightly then ran off.
"America, wait for me!"
Yes, England had no idea what they were. And maybe, just maybe, that was alright. The one thing he was sure of was that he loved America. Truly, and always.