Disclaimer: I own Hetalia. In a parallel universe.


America paced back and forth on the concrete bricks, always finding his way back to the spot he had last stood on. A breeze tousled his hair as if it was attempting to cool his impatience down, but to no avail. He lifted his wrist to look at his wristwatch, and let out a disgruntled grumble.

England's late again.

A sigh escaped from his lips as he buried his fists in his pockets. He guessed there was nothing he could do except for standing there and watch for the mentioned nation's arrival. He could just imagine those funny eyebrows scowling at him as England would say: "You were too early, stupid git!"

The sun was at the peak of the sky, warming the land below with its intense glare. The amusement park lay just ten meters or so away from America, and yet it felt so distant. Overhead, he could see the ferris wheel towering over the small city downhill, including some vibrant flags and signs of all colours jutting out from behind the rather high entrance gate. A rollercoaster loomed in the distance, loops and 'hills' blocking out a section of the sky.

America would take quick, forlorn glimpses through the gaps of the gate only to get slightly more envious for the people concealed behind them. He could see adults and children alike, strutting all over the park with cotton candies, cameras and prizes from booths in their hands. America could hear the distinctive shrieks of people whirling through the coaster, their cries merely adding to his desire to simply barge in and conquer the whole park.

A sudden prickle ran down his back. France, China, Russia and a few others would be in there right now. And then there was America, alone at the top of the steps leading towards the park. A promise; England would always promise America he would come when he was called. And America promised he would surely wait for him. Now the question was: Did he really mean it? America had always been especially naïve—placing hopes on people who weren't supposed to be trusted was a common mistake to gulped, and shot a look down the steps and at the parking spaces beyond.

No signs of England.

His stomach made a little knot.

And the question was: What happens when America wouldn't call for him anymore? The nation stopped his pacing abruptly, his head spinning as he halted. He could feel his fingers absent-mindedly twining around the warm cover of his mobile.

That couldn't possibly happen. Sure, they argued sometimes, but other than those moments they were inseparable. What would it take to stop him seeking for the Briton?

Wild horses?

Earthquakes?

An ocean?

America pulled out his mobile phone, thumb instantly punching the keys for his contact list. This was insane. England was probably only running late, that is all.

But he just had to make sure.

His thumb pressed a key, and America pressed the device against his right ear.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Click.

"Hello?" came the gruff reply from the other end of the line. America's shoulders somehow sagged in their sockets.

"Yo, Iggy!" he laughed airily, every ounce of anxiety stripped off by the tone of his voice. "Just wanted to know, err, how you're doing!"

England snorted. "Oh, it's only you. Well, I'm fine. Thanks, I suppose."

"Awesome. Anyways, where are you now?"

"At home."

"What?" America's grin fell. "You… You're not coming?"

It was silent for a moment, though Alfred could hear the gentle rhythm of England's breath in his ear. Heartbeat pulsed around his body as he waited for a response.

"Of course I'm coming! I thought I told you for the umpteenth time, ignorant twit," England finally said, and America had never found the insult anymore reassuring. "I'm sorry about this, by the way. Sealand just came over and he was… Well, being Sealand. Why d'you ask?"

America smiled. "Just making sure."

"Oh. I'm on my way right now, alright?"

"Alright."

"Tell the others I'm running a bit late."

"Okay."

"You can go ahead if you'd like. I'll catch up with you later."

"Fine."

A long pause rang in his eardrums, though neither of them had hung up yet.

"Alright, then," England said, breaking the silence. America could hear a fleeting smile in the other nation's voice. "I guess I'll see you soon."

"See ya," America beamed, his heartbeat easing a little. A dismissive click sounded and America stuffed his mobile back inside his pocket. He sighed an air of satisfaction, and tilted his head upwards to gaze at the endless, azure sky.

'See America? You should have more faith that England will come,' America would imagine a voice echoing in his mind. And then he would always answer, 'Next time I will. Next time.'

But the next time would always find him wondering what he would do if England wouldn't.


A/N: Thanks for reading. xD Inspired by this particular chapter from Noughts & Crosses, Malorie Blackman. Read it; it's awesomely tragic.

Like I say: Boost a budding author's confidence by commenting and leaving helpful criticism. Thanks!