Arthur Kirkland clung tightly to his gun. Rain poured down, mixing in with his tears, and making his sandy blonde hair stick to his dirty head. He was covered in dirt and blood, and his hands shook as he held his gun even tighter. He looked up, a desperate and pained look in his eyes, at the man who stood before him. America. His Alfred. His little colony that he took so good care of, and gave so much love. Now, things were different. Now, his little colony was grown and wanting to leave him forever. Wanting to desert him after everything he had done for him. He couldn't let him go. He couldn't let him leave and never come back. It was too painful.
"I just want my independence! We already took out your army! You are all that's left! Why can't you just let me go?" America was calling to him, with his huge army behind him. It was torture for England to hear those words coming from him. It was too much for him to bear.
"No!" he cried, his voice quivering as he fell to his knees. "I can't let you go! I gave you everything you ever wanted! I treated you like a son! Why would you want to leave me? Why can't you stay?"
England knew he was begging, but he didn't care. He wanted his America back. He wanted his Alfred.
"Because I can take care of myself now! I don't need you to protect me anymore! You can't make me stay! You've been beaten! Why can't you just let it go? Why can't you let me go?" said American cried.
"No!" England screamed with more pain and desperation than America had ever heard from him. His heart broke into a million pieces. 'Alfred...Alfred...Don't leave me...Please make this just a horrible nightmare...' he thought frantically as the pouring rain and tears blurred his vision.
England awoke with a start. His heart was beating and tears were filling his eyes. He slowly sat up and wiped the sleep and tears off his eyes. The horrible memory seemed to be the topic of his dreams anymore. He turned and looked at the calendar hanging on a wall nearby. No wonder he had dreamed such a dream. It was July third. The next day would be the day America left him. The day that he always dreaded, every year. He slowly got up and got ready for the day with a sad sigh. After he had breakfast (A delightful breakfast of scones and tea, thank you very much!), he decided to go for a walk outside to help clear his mind. The sun was shining brightly and the weather was warm, which was rare for England. It was a perfect day, and England sat in the shade of a tree, thinking nothing could possibly ruin such a serene moment. Nothing that is, until he heard the most obnoxious voice in the history of obnoxious voices.
"Yo, England! What's up?" America cried happily, running up to the Englishman.
"Nothing concerning you." was the ornery reply America received. His face fell slightly, his handsome baby blue eyes darkening just the slightest bit.
"Aw, why are you in such a bad mood? Tomorrow's the hero's birthday, you know! It should be a day of extreme awesomeness, dude!" he replied cheerfully. England said nothing, except for a small 'humph.' America sighed, his once cheerful smile turned into a concerned frown.
"Hey, look. I'm having a birthday party, and all the other peeps are invited. Do you wanna come?" he asked hopefully. England turned towards the American, about to retort meanly, but one look at his pleading face made the Englishman rethink his response.
"Oh, alright, you bloody wanker. But you better serve something other than hamburgers or I will have to kill you."
"ALRIGHT! THIS PARTY IS SO GONNA ROCK, YO! I GOTTA GO BUY SOME BIRTHDAY CAKE!" America cried happily running away to buy some. England sighed. Just what was he getting himself in to? How could he say yes like that? How could he take one look at him and melt, just like that? Did the bloody wanker have any idea what his birthday did to him?
England pressed the doorbell to America's house, holding a very fancifully decorated bag in his free hand (He was a gentleman after all). He could hear music blaring, and he assumed that the party was in full swing. Great. He was late. America opened the door, and England could see all the other countries talking and up to their usual antics.
"You made it!" America cried happily, grabbing England's hand and literally dragging him inside. Music was blaring, and there were mountains of food everywhere, including one gigantic birthday cake. All this cheer made England even more depressed. Memories of that horrible day kept popping up in his mind, and he was unable to keep them away. America saw England, and noticed that he didn't look happy at all. It was a party after all! Shouldn't people be having fun? America made his way over to England and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey. What's up? Are you having fun?" he asked, his usual cheerful expression changed to one of concern. England turned to the American.
"Of course, you git. Why wouldn't I be having fun?" he responded, trying his best to seem cheerful. However, America saw right through him.
"I think we need to talk." he replied, grabbing England's arm and dragging him to an empty room. After he shut the door, he turned to England and gave him a sad look, his eyes, which were normally bright, were dark.
"I-I'm sorry." he muttered. England mouth formed a perfect 'O' in shock.
"W-What?" he stuttered. America walked closer to England, and put his hands on the other man's shoulders, making England flinch.
"I know why you are so upset. You're still upset about what happened, aren't you?" America asked gently. Suddenly, England's emotions got the better of him.
"Upset?" He demanded. "After what you did to me, you think I am upset? You have to be a bumbling idiot to think I'm just upset!"
America winced from the power of England's words. It was obvious that he had wanted to say this stuff for a long time.
"I am really, really sorry. I hated to see you so upset every year, so I decided to do something about it. That's why I threw this party and invited you to it. I was hoping it could cheer you up." he confessed with a slight blush. England stared at America in shock.
"Y-You threw this party...for me?" he asked, incredulous. America nodded, his eyes heavy with sadness and regret.
"Yeah. I know that I hurt you really bad that day. But you have to understand, Iggy. I wanted to stand on my own. You always have, and I wanted to too. I guess...what I'm trying to say is...I looked up to you a lot, Iggy. I guess I wanted to be just like you."
England couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this some kind of dream?
"J-Just like m-me?" he muttered. America nodded, and then looked England right in the eye.
"I miss you, Iggy. I miss you a lot. It's not the same without you. Never was. That's why I want this all to be behind us. I want it to all be over with. Iggy...can you ever forgive me? I know it might be too late but-"
"You bloody wanker." England replied, his tears like two miniature waterfalls, as he closed the distance between them and kissed him tenderly. America stood there in shock, but then he smiled and kissed back, pulling him closer and tangling his fingers in his hair. When they pulled apart, America gave England a smile.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." England confessed with a blush.
"Well of course you did! I'm the hero! Everyone wants to kiss the hero!" America joked, gaining a glare from England.
"You stupid git." England retorted as America laughed and they walked hand in hand back to the party. England finally got what he wanted. In a way, he got his Alfred back.
