It's best not to ask where this idea came from, or when. The only thing that you readers need to know is that I wrote this like...months ago. And the inspiration came from my fiance accidentally discovering an old diary of mine and then playfully teasing the hell out of me over it. *Remembers and rolls her eyes, but is still smiling nonetheless*
I hope you enjoy and comments would be very much appreciated *hint hint*.
Disclaimer: America and England would have already made out sexily in one of the strips if I owned Hetalia...
-MidnightSakuraBlossom
. . . . .
Confessions of a Lonely Englishman
Written By: MidnightSakuraBlossom
Full Summary: England has come to understand he has strong feelings for his ex-colony, America. But he can't quite spill it out in words, so he chooses an old journal. Which America discovers and then confronts him about their relationship. It gets pretty dramatic from then on. But America is determined to sooth any conflict from certain past events between them.
Rated: T for the usual reasons. Language, suggestive themes, boyxboy fluff (just in case you don't like this couple, or any other yaoi pairs). Ect.
. . . . . .
It should have never happened. Not in this manner. He was just a child at the time, now he's grown up and so many events have passed and feelings changed. And now, in hindsight, I could only wonder why I had to be so weak and fall this far.
Damn it, why did the situation have to come?
It's that horrible moment in a person's life when you realize that, after a series of moments of revelation and little events ensuing triggered emotions, you happen to have deep feelings for somebody. Deeper feelings as in a very powerful, hopeless, no going back kind of desire for one person. And all feels just fine at first, you're very uplifted and cheery as you take delight in the fact no one has ever brought out this side of you.
Then things become quite dark far sooner than you wanted to. Because as you watch that person from afar you realize: how can this work out? Does he slash she know how I feel and would him slash her reciprocate it after all that has happened over the years? So much has happened that changed the relationship, things that are too painful to bring up and left vivid scars that can't be healed.
I know that I never will be able to turn back time and make things right. They just happened, they happened because of a variety of people and wrong decisions, but they did happen and that is all there is to it. He will never forget it and neither will I.
But at best, I want to smooth any tension that remains over. Ah...that is...that is because it really shouldn't be this way now. With me unable to tell the bloody git how I feel. And that's...that's why I turned to this very old, un-finished journal I discovered in my old attic. It certainly is wonderful for pouring out all of the things I wish to say without having actually voice it and cause severe humiliation. Reading back through entries of when I was smaller and some of the events I went through with that damn France, the wars, my pirate days, meeting America and taking care of him for a while, and then the...Revolutionary War which was where the entries ceased...
No, no I'm not crying. Just because the edge of the paper is somewhat damp and my eyes fill moist. It's only mere dust.
Lately, I have been adding more entries in my spare time. I guess you could say I have been feeling a bit lonely and maybe...nostalgic. Time has passed and we are in the month of July. The second to be exact. The forth is coming soon and I don't know what I will be doing; probably drinking at the nearest pub. I just want to be alone on that day because so many emotions that I cannot grasp suddenly pour out each time it sneaks up on me. He would tease me if he found out that I still become emotional on the fourth. Which is the sole reason I don't keep in touch too often around that time if I can help it.
...Who is this "he" I keep referring to? That is simple, it's America. One of my ex-colonies that you should know of from old entries in this worn, old journal.
It has been a long time since I have said a lot about him in your contents. And he has been dominating my mind for so long, I suppose it would be best if I just pour out everything on these pages before it becomes too much to mask through my guards.
Long ago, America was such a small and young country. He hadn't any power and various places around the world saw him as nothing more than territory up for grabs, though I absolutely hate to word it that way because he was so much more – which I later discovered as time passed. People like Spain, France, and several others were always back and forth over who would make him theirs and I finally spoke up after some time. The days turned to months and me and that damn frog, France, were very hostile as we argued and fought over who would claim this new territory. I won, at long last. And it seemed that I finally was at peace for a short time and I spent a lot of time acting as an authority figure for him. But I could not be too soft, times had become unsettling and a lot of hardships would be arising so I decided that I should also not get too attached, but that backfired on me, in hindsight.
Yes, the boy was quite energetic and occasionally a little pouty about rules that I placed. But he hadn't the choice but to listen and go through with it. Even if there were moments I was just about ready to go mad, I found myself becoming unfortunately attached and I began to think...well...erotic and pedophile-is thoughts. This was sickening to me, I did not want to become like France of all people! To this day, the very distant memory of those strange moments and thoughts never fail to make me blush. Fuck.
There is something that severely upset me as the time went by. America grew in power and became a teenager under my rule, and also became rebellious and bickered with me about my strict rules and the decisions I would make. "England, you can't just speak for me! I am not a child!", "Why the hell did you raise the taxes so high? My people are restless and demand explanations for this!", "You know what, England? I hope that you choke on all that overly-expensive tea, 'cause that stuff tastes goddamn awful!" And those are just some of the words that he had yelled during our arguments. But I also got in the last word and left the room of the house, only to lock myself in my own and slump against the door as I released a long sigh and try not to get too pissed off. "He is only a teenager, England. They always think they know better and react bitterly towards authority." I would say to myself in a faint whisper every time. As if to convince myself it was true.
Then, America completely stunned me by having the nerve to toss away all of the imported tea into the fucking Boston Harbor! If that wasn't enough, he started to turn against me and say no to all of my rules and acts I placed! All of this lead into that war...the war I still hardly can say without feeling some kind of ache in my heart, just recalling all of the gore, the bloodshed, the hostile words that were said, and the fact alone that I no longer had control over America, and he was on his own as a so-called free nation.
Emotions are so fucking complex! I knew that America must have hated me to have actually planned elaborate tricks in that war, and the things that he said to me, and I wanted to return then ten fold...so why could I not resent him completely...? Even when I tried to tell myself, if he wanted to rebel and become free of my rule, he should do it and I shouldn't care because I have no deep feelings calling out for him to return to me, I crack! Crack! America would have returned by now if he really did still have some sort of soft spot for me, but he left me at a very weak time and now I look at a world map and see the United States of America in full view. Almost mocking...and trying to draw out some tears that I want to fight back.
Time has certainly passed. I don't feel too bitter and scarred by anything that has happened in our history, now in these modern times, you could say that I can put up quite the masquerade when around him. But my heart still yearns for the day...he walks up to me directly, lifts my chin so that I look into his deep sapphire eyes and tells me..."Let's put the past behind us. At long last." Or something of that effect. It would perhaps ease some old pain. But I do realize the both of us will never forget it even if it's not a topic that we often bring up in our encounters.
I don't see him all that often now. I almost miss the idiot with his childish actions and personality, his odd ways of reasoning with other nations at the World Meetings, and then his appearance. His appearance. I can't help but be drawn in by his deep blue eyes and stare at his body when he doesn't realize I am looking at him. But this all makes me extremely embarrassed as well, I should not be acting this way towards an ex-colony. Especially an ex-colony with his rebellious history and the kind of back and forth relationship we have now during these times. It feels so bloody irritating to try and tell myself that our relationship will never be the same and he...he could not possibly reciprocate my feelings for him.
My feelings...my disguised, yearning, strong affection him. Sometimes I think that I really, really like the clueless idiot. And...ah...most of the time, I find that I may even...l-love America, actually. God knows I could never say any of this to his face, I would have to go crawl under a rock and hide for about one...two-thousand years tops?
I wonder how even more ruined our relationship would be if he ever did discover all of these thoughts I harbor. Chances are, at this moment, it is unlikely that he would feel the same way about me. He probably harbors some old hatred anyway for all of the things that I had done during his days as a colony. It truly is amazing how I could have fallen so much for him, wishing that we could be together.
...Well, I really should be ending this entry. America is coming over to my house today to talk about some crazy project that he was going to be doing at the next World Meeting and says that he needs some advice. I laugh to myself as to even think what insanity would take place at the meeting again.
Laughing to myself reminds me of the days I would do when America was so young, small, generally weak yet harboring great strength at the same time, and one of my own colonies that I genuinely cared for in my own complex way.
-England
. . . . . .
America's blue eyes widened as he quietly read through the mysterious, old and dusty leather book that he had found in wandering England's living room. A dark, red blush dared to burn on his cheeks to his ears as he realized slowly what the hell he was reading.
An old journal that belonged to England himself. Most of the first entries were about his days before he was discovered, about his quarrels with France, his pirate adventures, and finally most of the moments that he spent with him when he was finally discovered and under his rule. Most of the things that he said about him...could be considered very embarrassing for the both of them now that he thought about it, and that last, painfully short entry from presumably this morning topped it all off with a bang.
Why was here in this country of all places? Well, let us back up for a moment, he had decided to visit England just out of his own desires to see his face, hear his voice, and just be with him after a few months. But he knew that approaching him directly was a huge no no and dropping by unexpectedly was so 1990. He decided to pass off his presentation and lengthy speech for the upcoming World Meeting in the end of July was the right way to go; England would never discover his secret motives.
He had phoned England personally and the other country agreed to the visit. Score! Gleefully, America hastily made preparations for a flight to one of the main cities...eventually recalling that it was London he was supposed to choose. And finally arrived and burst into his house, making himself comfortable almost too immediately.
Now that he was here, England offered to get him something to drink like the old, classy guy that he still could be towards him. While England left to get the drink, America wandered the room in search of something to keep him entertained while he waited for him to return. That's when his eyes fell on the suspicious leather book tucked away, almost completely concealed by a small decorative pillow.
So, not sensing anything out of the ordinary or preparing for some of the things he was about to see, America flopped down onto the couch, propped up his feet (England would probably lecture him for doing that.), grasped the sides of the book, and proceeded to skim through the pages with little interest.
Little interest transformed to huge fascination as he read through the journal entries now. A part of him had told him to stop when he realized what he was reading and that is was a huge violation of privacy, but he didn't care and tuned out. After skipping to the entries centered about him, he couldn't help but continue on with his fascination and awe increasing and soaring.
He didn't even realize that England had came back into the room. Until...
"America, I'm back-what the bloody hell are you reading...?"
At that thunderous, shocked voice, America quickly slammed the book shut but failed to toss ti back onto the couch as if he wasn't doing anything. He craned his neck to meet England's widening eyes and was torn between bolting out the door before he got scolded verbally or revealing his true motives for coming here in the first place (it wasn't just for some stupid presentation for a political topic, you know).
And in that moment, England carelessly shoved the glass he was holding onto a nearby table and took a shaky step closer, torn between yelling or just running away. Either one of those responses would have been perfectly suitable in his mind.
He was too careless with that journal, he knew that America was coming over but he had to be such an idiot and think hiding it behind some classy pillow on the couch would have solved it's existence problem! Why didn't he just lock that thing in his room?
He probably skipped the first entries and went straight to the ones detailing about how he really felt of him. Knowing America, he always had to be interested when he saw his name somewhere. The drinks and original topic utterly forgotten, England found himself still standing there staring...unable to really make some sort of reaction in his shock.
In hindsight, maybe it was not a good idea to be so nosy when discovering books. America returned the eye contact, and even he wasn't sure what to say or do because he was startled by his reappearance and all of the things he had read. Wearing his usual childish, guilty expression that England had seen countless times.
And this situation was no different.
Finally, America jumped up from the couch and around the side, cautiously approaching England as he didn't know how he would react. "England...I just found that book behind a pillow and-"
"How much did you see...?" England interjected in a panicked manner, looking away at the floor as soon as he felt his cheeks scorch in humiliation.
"I skipped through the boring parts. You really brag too much about yourself." America mentioned, purposely sounding and looking annoyed by that fact. He hoped side-stepping the main topic may help the impact. England was a pretty dramatic guy sometimes after all...but at least he knew why...
"Don't avoid the question. You know everything now, right?"
"Uh..."
"You read that journal! You know I'm so damn hopelessly in love with you and that explains everything!" England's brows furrowed together and he turned away, secretly hoping that his tone of voice wasn't cracking with several emotions like he thought it sounded. "You know that I miss you so much and dream about the day that you will come to my doorstep and slip me in your strong arms and tell me that you feel terrible about the Revolution and return my very complicated, powerful love that I try to forget about..."
America's eyes widened in shock. "You WHAT...?"
England tensed up, daring to bite his tongue for just spilling all of that. He hoped this was a dream. A horrible dream that was not real and would never change anything in the real world. America was not at his home visiting and suddenly coming across that old journal, he was not blabbing any secrets in the rush of the moment, and this feeling welling inside was not extreme mortification.
Too bad this was all reality. It was happening right here, right now.
Why did things have to go wrong every damn time that America came over? It didn't matter his motives or whatever was going on, the mood and topic switched far too easily and England would end up mortified?
"Is...that true?" America asked, the words just tumbling out once he took a few steps forward cautiously towards his ex-brother. His expression turned serious, a rare sign that the situation overall was a no-nonsense type. "England, I don't understand what's going on. But if we can just talk and explain both sides of the story, maybe we can sooth any rough-"
"There's nothing left to say!" England interrupted all of a sudden, his eyes shut tightly as he felt tears threatening to build up and fall. He couldn't let that happen now, that would really seal the deal and make him look like even more of a complete fool. "America...I can't talk right now. I know you came all the way over here for some reason but this isn't a good time...I have to go do something else..."
"England...!"
America extended a hand and tried to call out again, but England was already rushing out of the room and down the dark hallway. Seeing as though he was basically gone, he stood there surprised to see such a dramatic reaction.
What was the big deal if he...felt that way about him? How was that upsetting and so difficult to try and admit? America didn't understand this at all and it felt like his head was spinning as he considered what had gone wrong. And why England seemed to be taking this in very hard.
A likely theory would be the whole Revolution thing still burned into his mind and heart, leaving one scar that he couldn't get rid of no matter what he tried to tell himself. Possibly, the reason why he was acting so determined to keep it hidden from him especially could be due to the fact he was always sending mixed messages and never gave off the vibe that he may have felt the same way.
And, judging by past events, England did get pretty overboard when it came to these kinds of things. Of course, you would not be able to hear him admit that willingly or even if he was being threatened by somebody.
The fact that he admitted all of this in a journal didn't seem surprising. But discovering the journal, America kind of knew it was wrong but he couldn't tear his eyes away after he realized a lot of it was talking about how much he cared about him as a brother, actually describing some things in a sickeningly sweet way, and then later blatantly starting that he had feelings deeper than that and barely knew it consciously beforehand.
He glanced for a small moment at the journal deserted on the couch. Wondering if he should leave England alone, or go pry for more information and try to tell him that he reciprocated his feelings...even if he tried not to believe it himself.
His mind made up, America tore off down the hall after England. He had to try and tell him everything, get him to understand that he was reacting so dramatically for no reason...
. . . . .
He couldn't remember a time that he had been so mortified, especially not by such simple circumstances like this. England never expected for this to ever happen, and now he just didn't know what he could do to make it all get back to normal for him and America again. Could he find it in him to live this mistake down? Was it even a mistake?
Whatever it was, nothing that England could try to tell himself would pause the hot tears trailing from his eyes and dripping down his features to the floor beneath his feet. It was almost completely dark in that hallway, he was thankful or it. He didn't need to be seen right now, especially not by the one person who he was lost head over heels for, the person who would take no sympathy and probably tease him forever about what he unearthed.
If possible, time could just stop altogether at the moment. He wouldn't have cared, such an event would at least pull him out of this mortification and allow relief. And America could be avoided, he would never have to walk up to him and clearly admit...everything from his own mouth.
Even the thought of having to do that made his hands tremble. After so many years of secrecy, how could he possibly admit this? It would not have a happy ending, they were both basically from completely different worlds and had so much conflict in past history. After everything that has happened up until these times, just what would have triggered America to ever develop certain feelings for him? England didn't believe he ever once showed he felt that way. Not a single implication...
Why did he have to fall this far?
England knew he couldn't stay in this hallway forever. He couldn't hide from America forever. And something was going to happen that would have to make him admit everything from his own words, rather than some journal that he just wanted to rip to a thousand pieces and throw them in his fireplace, burning everything. Watching the flames burn away it all, so that maybe he could restore his life.
No, no that would not work out like in movies. Because he would go on to live forever and all of those events, memories, emotions, they were all scarred on the inside of his mind. Which really did suck sometimes.
Before he had the chance to wipe away some of the tears so that America wouldn't catch him crying again, he sprinted down the hall and froze once he was close by. England just glanced away and settled his gaze on anything but the panting American.
He refused to be seen this way. Over the fact that one of his most buried down secrets that he loathed so much had just resurfaced for all to know. America would not let him live it down, he just knew it.
"England...England..." America caught his breath soon, and he slid against the wall close to England, holding his shoulder to ensure that he couldn't run away again from the strength against it. "We need to talk about this. I, mean, I need to know what's going on and...why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying," Whispered England, as he turned for a moment to wipe away the incoming tears that drenched his cheeks. He couldn't believe he was letting this get to him. For what exactly? "America...just go home. I don't want to talk."
Did that convince America? Not at all. He detected the tears, and the way England's tone was shaky and hesitant to say anything. "England..."
"Why are you still lingering around? I suppose it's to be entertained?" America's brows furrowed together, but England still was not looking at him directly and didn't take notice to the way he looked deeply concerned about the situation. He just continued to babble, fighting back tears and failing. "Go on ahead and laugh about my situation, I can't change anything now..." Although, it would have been nice to rewind this moment.
He could have prevented America from ever coming across that damn journal and figuring out how much he still pined to have him. But not as a mere colony, more like a lover than anything. But no...there was no way that he felt the same way...
In fact, England was just waiting for the laughter and crude teasing. His mind was counting down the seconds until he would hear it and be rejected.
"England, do you really feel that way? Do you seriously love-"
"Why do you insist on using that word?"
"-me? That way?"
England tensed up, but then his gaze began to dart all over the room, anywhere but America's eyes. Oh God, if only a black hole would just open up in the floor...or maybe a tree outside come crashing into the house...the planet being thrown off balance and rotation cease...anything to prevent himself from having to answer that mortifying question he always wanted and yet didn't want to hear.
His breath was caught in his throat, and his heart was pumping rapidly. In all honesty, speech was not something that England could have accomplished.
"Please just go home..." America's grip on England's shoulder loosened. Eventually, it fell back on to his side in surprise by the response. But he wasn't about to cave in and leave, because he felt it was only necessary to find out what he meant and if he really does feel that way.
No matter how impossible it felt to admit this, England would have to say it. America needed and wanted to know what was going on and why he was acting this way. If he really did mean all of that stuff he wrote, this could really benefit them both.
"Why are you still here? There is nothing left to say!"
"Look, I just can't process of all this so suddenly...I mean, I never suspected that you only acted so confusing and like a bitter jerk just because you didn't want me to find out-"
"Don't you dare finish the sentence! I can't listen to it right now..." England stepped around America, sliding up to the door to his study. Before the other nation had the opportunity to prevent him from doing so, he slipped in and threw it shut.
America's brows furrowed when he heard clicking from the inside. Okay, now England was locking doors? What the hell was wrong with him discovering this secret of his? It could be resolved, if he would stop acting so unnecessarily dramatic and stubborn to admit the truth.
Geez, no one could say that he, himself, was stubborn now. If only some other nations were aware of England's actions.
With a a shake of his head in disapproval, America walked towards the door and raised a fist to roughly knock and hopefully put his physical strength to good use by tearing that damn thing apart. But before it could do that, his palm froze when it touched the boring dark red wooden door.
He heard crying. Well, choked sobs and strangling hiccups. But that was enough to make his heart sink.
"England." No answer. "England..." Nothing, well, except for sobs that were obviously trying to be restrained but were still audible. "ARTHUR."
Hopefully that would get England to get his self together to reply. Nations have their human names of course, to go by when walking among humans as civilians themselves. When they address each other in this manner...well...that was a form of fondness that hinted at something.
When America was young, he would innocently address the cold Brit by human name. He didn't quite understand why he would always act flustered and quickly make a correction. And a while later, sometime just before World War II, he decided to again say call him by it either when he wanted to see him get embarrassed and start arguing. But now that he used it, he felt something odd well up. An emotion that he couldn't quite name at the moment.
But he couldn't deny it didn't exist.
"...G-go home already."
"Damn it, I need to know what's wrong! I hear you crying, I heard the door lock, and what's the purpose for doing this anyway? What is so wrong with being in love with me?"
"You don't understand...not at all!"
"Maybe if you told me what's going on, I might be able to straighten this all out!"
"Why can't you just leave me alone, America? Why? I don't want to see you right now, not after you know everything I wanted to hide! And-and what's the purpose of me ever showing my face again? It won't be long before literally everyone is aware-"
"I won't leave until you stop acting like this, we settle any conflict, and you admit everything written in that diary was true!"
"FUCK OFF!"
"I'll break down the door if I have to, and you KNOW I can!"
"Dammit, America! You're...you're...why do you have to be so stubborn? GO HOME ALREADY!"
"I will; when you come out and stop acting like a kid!"
"..."
"England..." America walked closer to the door, trailing off as he heard some muffled sniffles on the other side. He decided to shut up for once, his eyes softened a bit as he detected the sound. "Is it seriously that bad to be in love with me? Are you trying to imply it's wrong?"
"..."
America was ready to raise his voice again and then maybe slam open the door himself; because he could with that physical strength he possessed. Then the door to the study unlocked from the inside and creaked open just a little so that he could get a glimpse of half of England's face.
He looked terrible, his visible eye was puffy, red, and brimming with tears. His cheek was flushed deeply and seemed to be turning darker as he met America's gaze and held it there.
"Listen to me, just for a second." America reached for the edge of the door, his fingers curled around it securely, so that England couldn't try slamming it back easily. "You have to stop crying, compose yourself, and come out here and tell me what's going on in your own words. Have you even considered that maybe...maybe..." America's eyes darted around, he hoped he didn't look nervous. He didn't want to look it now. "I'm not good with this kinda thing, okay?"
"What are you trying to say?" England whispered, as if he couldn't really say this any louder for some reason. Well, it was a bit understandable considering he had been shouting and that was rough on one's vocal cords.
"Have you ever considered that I feel the same?" Oh God, he really just said that. America couldn't believe be prompted that question, but it felt a bit good to finally say it. It was almost like some sort of relief that had been pressuring him for a while.
"America...I'd like to believe it..." England's cheeks began to turn a bright shade of red, and it wasn't just from all of that crying. He plucked up some courage to meet those passionate blue eyes staring into his. "You never once showed any signs you feel that way. I always cared about my colonies and gradually, I realized that I cared about you especially. I wanted to make sure you were protected from all of those other greedy bastards that wanted you. But you finally rebelled and was determined to break away."
"You don't understand," America shook his head in disapproval. "All that stuff you did was totally unfair and unreasonable for me. Yeah, I was so pissed off and couldn't take it...I didn't bother to look back and thought I hated you."
"...I still think about that moment. I still cannot get over how you no matter how I try...but you never got that through your damn thick skull! My heart still couldn't be convinced it was useless to chase after someone who couldn't care less but that was...so...hard..." The tears were beginning to pour freely again. But England just glowered and slammed the door back shut.
Okay, this was just getting ridiculous! How could England think that all of his problems would be solved if he slammed a door, told him to go home, and continued to try and tell himself he didn't need to bother loving someone he, quote, would never have, unquote.
America was more than tempted to break down the damn door, but he tried to calm himself. He fold his arms over his chest and paced in front of it, trying to gather some words that he felt he should say.
"You know, America, you could have confronted me sooner if you felt that way...why would you never come and say this? Why would I have to wait so long, believing it would never happen?"
"England..." America walked back up to the door, pressing a palm against it. Imagining that England was probably leaning against it from the other side and he was at least technically touching his shoulder. "After some conflict in the past, did you really expect me to understand how I feel that easily? It took a long time. But now...honestly...I don't hate you."
"So you..."
"Damn it, just come out of that bedroom!"
"It's...a study."
"Whatever. Come out. I have something I'd like to do..."
It took several seconds, England finally sucked it up and opened up the door to the study, stepping out almost fearfully of what may come next. But what did follow up was not what he was expecting at all.
America had rushed forward, grasping his shoulders tightly and pulling him close into a kiss. Now, to be fair, England expected a punch or maybe some yelling. He was stunned by this unexpected action. And for some reason...he couldn't reject or slip out of his hold.
He needed that so much. Maybe more than what he originally believed. But, whatever, England decided that this would be a good time to return with some passion.
It had to be a while before separating neither really knew because they lost any sense of time or reality. When England's eyes snapped open and he reeled his lips back, he noticed he was still being held down and his own hands were encircled around America's neck. America was smiling, aware of what just happened and obviously not regretting a thing.
Yes, there was silence. But it was far from terribly awkward and embarrassing, it was actually a peaceful and nice one. So much difference.
And then America had to destroy that silence. "You've got a pretty cute smile."
England promptly blushed, bringing a finger to trace along the corners of his lips. God, he was smiling and it was no doubt genuine. As America laughed about it, he glared and lowered his face closer into his shoulders as if to hide it.
"Come on, there's no reason to hide-"
"Shut up."
"England, it's-"
"Enough!"
America rolled his eyes momentarily, and then sighed before lightly pulling England back up and releasing his hold on him. He was almost amused to see that England's embrace around his neck wasn't going anywhere and he obviously didn't want the moment to come to a conclusion.
Of course, England probably wouldn't have admitted that if he prompted the question before him. So rather than announcing that like he did with the smile, he simply let it go.
Besides, maybe there was something else they had to establish right now. Like what their relationship was coming to. After this entire situation, would they remain mere acquaintances with so much troubled conflict between them...or lovers?
"Hey, I meant what I said earlier. I don't hate you...I actually kind of like you." America said soothingly, lowering his tone as he tipped England's chin up a bit to where they could meet eyes. He almost let a smile full of mischief appear across his lips as he recalled a line from that journal he read. "Let's put the past behind us at long last and hook up."
Oh yes...he definitely read that latest journal entry and obviously could recall that embarrassing line inside towards the end. England almost wanted to just go hide back in the study forever, but he couldn't deny that hearing that from America directly and not from his occasional daydreams and imaginary scenarios in his head was like music to his ears.
"And, I don't want to hook up as countries." America leaned in to steal a quick kiss, before the smile returned to his face as he continued to meet those moist emerald eyes. "Setting aside any tension from the past, let's just do this as Alfred and Arthur. This was actually what I came by today to tell you, after so much time of contemplating and using the World Meeting as an excuse anyway."
"Y-yes...I..." No, no more tears. He couldn't possibly still have any left. England didn't bother to finish the reply to this offer, his next action said it all.
He encircled his arms around his neck once again and pressed his lips to America's fiercely and roughly, finally getting the chance after all this time of imagining how it would feel. Honestly, he could feel the heat soar through his body and especially his cheeks scorch for might have been forever. He wasn't about to break it now after so much emotional turmoil.
Even when America tried to be reasonable, to break the kiss for a little bit of air, England still held him back in place by basically clawing into his blond locks and pulling him closer. He hoped it wouldn't end, it was like heaven for now.
And soon, America realized that it would be useless to resist. After all, he really did like it. The taste of his lips. How long had he been wanting this?
The kiss continued for a little while, until they both regained their senses and broke the kiss for some much-needed air. Soon after, they noticed that they were both still held in each others' arms intimately and their faces mere centimeters apart. But they were in a dark hallway of all places...not the ideal setting for a long-awaited make-out session.
Slowly, it all came down upon England. The fact that he had previously been so secretly fearful of what America may say or do if he told him how he felt. After so much rejection in his life, the thought of any more would surely bring him to his knees. And now...now as he found himself swept off his feet, having just unlocked the cage on his harbored emotions, and found those two kisses pleasantly surprisings...well...what could he say? The innocent and yet knowing look on America's face wordlessly told him how he felt about everything.
It was good to know that he wanted to put the past behind them. Bury it all, forget about it. Yes, there had been tough times and moments of their lives that still haunted them. But there were, admittedly, some peaceful moments that they equally missed and would like to live on. Now they could establish a new relationship as 'Alfred' and 'Arthur'. Just two guys whom, after a round of conflict, managed to set aside any problems and tension and let a romance blossom. Yes, still, they could put up a little meaningless act in front of the other countries though. England didn't seem like he was ready to go public yet.
As long as they were together, it didn't matter. America was so glad that he discovered that journal by total accident, all of this drama may never have fell into place otherwise. He never would have gotten it through his thick skull that he really did want to put the past in, duh, the past. England had really angered him in the past, there were times he really did hate him and wanted nothing more than to escape from his control forever. But he wouldn't stop being a jackass and had to continue to get in his way.
And now...now here he was actually moving on and trying to forgive England for all that he had done. Somewhere along the way it became apparent to him that maybe it was time to take their relationship up a notch, so to speak. He wanted to be with him. But, as he worded earlier, not as allied nations with good relations, and not as mere friends. But as lovers...if England could just get that hesitation off his tongue and accept it himself.
England previously considered the idea of keeping that journal ridiculous. Unnecessary. Until something utterly terrible and catastrophic happened, he would still live near immortal as a personified nation. Why would he need that to keep memories? Well...he did need to get some certain things that he was harboring off of his chest. For a while, he hid his true feelings from America and did literally anything to ensure he never found out. But he was merely afraid of any more rejection. As the months began to pass that year and it was nearing the anniversary of that day. Haunting rejection. He concealed his true feelings, love, sadness, loneliness.
At first, he expected the worst when he came back into the room to see America reading the journal discarded on the couch carelessly. America always liked to flip through boring stuff, which was what he thought of England's pirate days and whatever he thought of his old colonies, he would flip and notice the latest entry. To discover his heart unlocked and spilled on the pages containing.
Now, he felt relieved he didn't have to cover it all up anymore. There was not enough words to spell out his fears and worries. Now, that was all over and gone. America felt the same way, and that was all there was to it.
England almost didn't want to leave the embrace, he had been wanting this for so long that it was gradually wearing him down. Now he had exactly what he needed and wanted, and it was wonderful. It worked out even better than the imaginary scenarios inside his head.
At long last, they lifted their heads and met each others' gaze. Holding a nice, intimate gaze that wasn't half as difficult to manage as originally thought. England could feel the smile lingering on his lips, along with the remaining heat surging throughout his body from the rush of thrill and joy at being able to have a taste of something he had been craving for such a long time whether he knew it consciously or not. America couldn't deny that he was grinning as if thinking something like the lines of; "Did we just...? Oh hell yeah." really, he didn't expect it to ever happen since his ex-brother was previously such an emotional wreck. It was amazing how he could bounce around like that. Maybe he could let the moment linger for just a little while longer.
"England, I bet you're glad I didn't leave. I didn't get plane tickets in advance, take a very special plane ride to London, get a rental car and drive along those backward streets and miserable weather for nothing." England seemed to seriously contemplate if he was glad or not, America dismissed it as one of his usual sarcastic moments that he tended to use to disguise any mushy feelings he felt at the time being. "Why don't we make the most of this visit? Just so you know: I only came over here to tell you I love you and ask you if you returned it, the World Meeting was just some excuse."
"Oh God, how did I not see that coming?" In irritation with himself, England rolled his eyes and averted her gaze in obvious mild embarrassment. America just laughed and reached for his wrist, pulling him along with him.
And maybe it was just the fact that his emotions were all coming unlocked and out of the cage, but England was sure that he almost stumbled along lost onto cloud nine after America clasped his wrist with his palm and dragged him along with him. He was unknown to the fact he was smiling stupidly.
By the time that they were back inside of the living room, at the door that America had gleefully pulled open, England was able to remove his smile and his wrist retreated at long last.
"America, you can go ahead and get the car ready." England informed him, he averted his gaze as he hoped that his expression was softening once meeting those eyes. God, he couldn't believe what kind of effect that they had on him.
"Aren't you coming?"
"Yes, but unlike you, I cannot go out there looking like a slob. I need to freshen up at least a little."
"C'mon, time's wasting and we should spend the most of this visit in London together! Besides, I thought you Brits were finally over all of that formality stuff!"
"My eyes are red and puffy, there's tear streaks on my cheeks, my eyebrows are not trimmed, and my clothes are wrinkled. Just because you're okay with wearing that shabby dark blue hooded shirt, baggy brown pants, and sneakers, it doesn't mean everyone else is."
"Hey, if you guys would loosen up and be more casual 'round here, some of my population wouldn't be laughing and joking about how ridiculously proper you are."
"...You're such a bastard."
"But you know that you love me anyway~!"
At that last part, America gave him a flirty wink before going along with his proper ways and then walking out the door to rev up the car. England was left standing there, blushing and pouting a bit.
But, after a few seconds, England rolled his eyes and closed the door back, wiping any remaining tear streaks with his thumb.
He began to walk off in the direction of the bathroom to, quote, freshen up, unquote. But before doing so, a familiar black journal on the couch caught his attention. England found it rather easy to look it, which was something he didn't expect.
He recalled how he felt that morning before this fiasco with America. He was bitter, lonely, and it was consuming him greatly. It didn't matter what he did or said to himself, he could not get over America and it was killing him.
He recalled how he felt when America was discovered reading it. He was instantly shocked and embarrassed, believing that now that how he felt was exposed...he could probably never leave his house again.
He recalled how he felt a few moments ago when the idiot managed to get him to come out of the study so that he could pull him into a kiss and confess what he wanted to. He felt stunned, wonderful, weightless, and relieved that his feelings that he was so conflicted with all of this time were actually returned.
But that didn't change the fact that this was still one of the most embarrassing things that England had experienced in some time. He truly wondered if America realized this or not. But he really shouldn't be thinking about all of this now.
For once, it was time to focus on the future. The – this may sound a little bit corny so please proceed with caution – rewrite of their relationship...at least as far as these modern times go. It's a new century and it's a new timeline. All of that past disagreement and heartbreak? It should stay in the past where it rightfully belongs.
Taking one last look at the door, England's eyes shifted a bit nervously. Without a word, he reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He refused to look at it. It was so embarrassing to even acknowledge that he had bothered to write this up.
Without saying anything, he carefully smoothed it out a little so that it wouldn't tear and then opened up the front cover of the journal. He placed it back inside as he shook his head in quite a disapproved manner with himself. He was glad that he was smart enough to rip that out at the time of writing this latest entry; he would have had some very, very awkward explaining to do afterward.
As soon as England put the picture into the journal, he picked it up and tossed it into a nearby trashcan and proceeded to step out of the door and join America in the car, he was still smiling a bit satisfied to himself for that one little accomplishment which was so much larger in context.
In fact, the contents of the crumpled up paper was a photo of America and England. It was years ago when America was showing off a new camera at a World Meeting and grinned as he trapped a glaring England around the shoulders with his arm and then took a pic of the two together like that. America didn't know that England had kept a copy of course and he recently decided to attach it to a piece of paper.
...Underneath the picture, on the paper, a message written in England's fancy handwrighting stated:
America, I usually haven't the slightest idea how to put it into words how I feel about you.
Do you remember when this photo was taken at that World Meeting?
Do you remember when you cut all ties with me?
Do you remember how I tried my best to help you stand up against all of the bastards of the world?
I remember it all...I cannot let go of it. Time is supposedly something which heals wounds, and it does not work that way with me.
Every bloody day, I wonder what you're doing. If you're thinking about me. If you managed to settle any tension between other nations. If you, at long last, willing to talk about...us. When I say us, I do mean "me" and "you". I hope you did not take that out of context.
When I look at this photo, I notice how crazy and true to yourself you look here. I, meanwhile, certainly didn't feel as annoyed as I appeared. And...truthfully...I was fighting back a smile and a blush, just being so close to you is a weakness.
What I'm trying to tell you is...
I...
Ah...
This is not something that's easy to say aloud. But if you ever do get this message, whether you feel the same or not, I must say this.
I miss you. I want to rest in your strong arms. Above all else, I want you to know that behind my sarcastic comments, bickering, and blank expressions...I think I may lo...I mean...li...like you...
Damn it, you better not be laughing. Regardless of how strongly I feel, I will have no problem whatsoever with tracking you down and punching your stupid face inward!
-England
THE END
. . . . .
A while ago I intended to publish this. But then this happened and that happened...
But in the end, I actually think that this wasn't too terrible. It's nowhere near my best work (if I have any at all), but I really wanted to explore a little emotional side of the whole USUK thing. I know that my description of historical events may not be accurate, but really, this IS Hetalia we're talking about. It does not have to be totally accurate.
I kind of wish that people would just get that, given actual history, America obviously decided to rebel because he really was pissed with England at the point in time. He didn't do so because he loved him and wanted him to view him as a possible love interest (though my fangirl side begs to differ, but that is BESIDE THE POINT). He wanted FREEDOM from unbearable rule. To be able to stand up himself against the world and not put up with England basically saying; "You can't speak or do for yourself. You're under me, you have no right to argue. You have no right to (insert whatever action that requires freedom here)" . And even AFTER America gained independence, he was still pissed that England wouldn't leave him alone and continued to be a bit of a pest. But, here, there may be some old scars but the pain isn't as deep. And England achieved a happy ending after all. Aw. *Sheds a tear*
...oh my God, do ANY of you CARE about my rambling? -.-' *In an embarrassed manner she flicks away that mentioned tear*
If you have any comments, I'd love to hear them. Criticism is ideal too. And as for the flames, I can handle that with my weapon. *Pulls out a fire extinguisher from hammerspace and aims it with a gleam in her eye*
-MidnightSakuraBlossom